Confrontations
by Jemmz
Summary: Back after a long hiatus! My own interpretation of "Fugitives" after "Trust And Blood". Follows Future!Peter in the future Fugitives-verse and the made of Awesome Trio which is Matt, Mohinder and Peter in the present. More info inside.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Confrontations

**Author: **Jemma

**Rating: **To be safe, T (13+)

**Disclaimer: **Not my show or characters.

**Characters: **Peter, Nathan, Matt, Mohinder, Sylar, Claire, Future!Peter, Danko, HRG, Mary Campbell, mentions of Luke and Hiro.

**Summary: **My own interpretation of "Fugitives" after "Trust And Blood". I started this before Volume Four began but added to it as new episodes showed. It follows Future!Peter in the future Fugitives-verse and the made of Awesome Trio which is Matt, Mohinder and Peter in the present. The three fugitives go on an important mission to find Sylar in an attempt to get Peter's abilities back while, in the future, Future!Peter struggles with the changes of reality and suddenly finds himself in the same position many of his friends had been put in before they met a cruel fate.

**Chapter One.**

Peter had gotten in to the habit of seeing his future self almost every week, hearing the awful things he had to say about what was to come, why, and when. It had become a routine. The world always needed saving-protecting. For Future Peter it was too late. The worst had already happened and there was no changing it. He needed to go back, warn of the events before they took place. Then maybe there would be some hope for the world.

He heard soft footsteps approach behind him, "What now?" he asked aloud without turning around.

His other self paused and glanced to the ground slightly, "It's gotten worse," he said in a low, rough voice.

"Worse?" he turned around and faced his future self. The scar remained painfully across his face. It unnerved Peter that no matter how many times they changed the future, that scar always remained.

"They're still rounding everybody up, capturing them like criminals and locking them away. Most of us have been caught. I've lost contact with several others. We're running out of places to hide."

He blinked. Each time the news always got worse. How could he ever be surprised? He took a moment to absorb the words. So they were still fugitives in their own home. He knew who was behind this. He just didn't understand why. They were human beings, abilities or not. They didn't deserve this treatment. The thoughts swam through his mind. He could never let this happen, "What can I do?"

"Stop them," he said simply.

"How?"

"They want a war, we'll give them a war," his stare was cold and angry. Peter could only imagine what had caused him to become so distant from himself. So different. So enraged and discontent. But in a world like this where the horror seemed to jump out at them at any moment, how could he blame himself for becoming so callous?

Present Peter considered this. It seemed the war was already on. But they were fighting a losing battle. Even with their powers they still seemed….power_less. _The teleporters couldn't dodge them, the shape shifters couldn't fool them and the mind readers couldn't see (or rather, hear) them coming. No matter what they did, they still lost. They could only run.

"I know what could help," he spoke up after a few seconds, "At the moment, your powers are limited. You should find Sylar. Absorb all of his powers. Then you'll have a good advantage over them."

He looked over at him with uncertainty, "Will that work?"

"It's worth a try. If you attempt to fight them with only one ability at a time…failure is likely to follow. Trust me, I've tried. With only one power at a time, you're just like the rest. And look what happened to them."

Peter thought quietly to himself again. Then he nodded. He was right, it was worth a try. Although he hadn't seen Sylar since the night he killed his father. He had hoped he'd never have to see him again. But if it would help him stop this madness he was willing to do it.

"There's something else," Future Peter added solemnly, "Something that will make your choices easier."

Peter didn't doubt his words. After all, this was himself he was speaking to. He knew how his mind worked and functioned. He raised his eyes to his curiously and Future Peter took a moment to respond. For the first time during his visits, Present Peter thought he could see genuine pain in his other form, and he wondered whatever had caused him to feel such grief.

"In the future," he began solemnly, glancing from the floor to his younger self's confused and unscarred face, "They start executing us. One by one."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. The deceit, the outrage-

"They find Claire," he quickly added, and his voice seemed less emotionless this time, "They kill her. They find a way to…she couldn't heal. I tried to stop it but…"

Peter's mouth hung open. He couldn't take this any longer.

"Alright," he said aloud after what seemed like hours of silent torment, "I'll stop them."

His older form nodded. He knew he would do whatever it took to save the girl. He cared for her after all. He cared for her a great deal. He stepped back, ready to return to the future. An understandable hesitance shone in his eyes. Peter could only be thankful that he didn't have to go back and live in the world he lived in. Where everything had already gone wrong, where plans had failed, where people with abilities were being executed purely because they were 'special', and a world where Claire was dead. No, Present Peter had a chance to change all of this. And change it he would. But something else played on his mind, something that probably didn't compare at that moment, but still, he had to ask.

"Wait, how did I…how did _you _get that scar?" he asked aloud. One of the questions that had always been stuck at the back of his mind but he had been too afraid to ask, "Whenever I see you, whatever happens. You always have that scar." He twitched slightly, awaiting an answer. Future Peter's cold expression remained the same but he sighed and shifted his position a little as his past self stared intently at him.

"Some things you can't change. Perhaps it's best you don't know."

Peter wrinkled his nose, unsatisfied with the answer but agreed with his comment. Perhaps it _was _best he didn't know. Perhaps it would scare him out of something he was meant to do. With that, the other Peter vanished in an instant. And he was alone again.

**Manhattan, New York City, 2011 **

Future Peter appeared in an empty ally and sighed to himself. He hoped his other self could stop all of this from happening. They had done it before; they had saved the Cheerleader. They had saved the World. And it was all because they changed the inevitable. They had changed the future. Peter remembered when he had first met Claire. Her smile was perhaps the loveliest he had ever seen. And he took silent delight at being called her hero.

How things change in such a short amount of time. How terrible things get. He never wanted to leave the past whenever he visited. He never wanted to return. But he had to. For now all he could do was hope for the best and keep on running.

He wasn't even certain why he was back in New York. To say goodbye? That's what he concluded. After all, this place was his home and he had been through so much here. This was where he discovered his powers and began his seemingly endless journeys to save this world. To save this City from persistent horrors that never seemed to die down for long. Peter was a fool for ever thinking he could be normal again. And strangely enough, he wasn't sure he wanted to be now. If everyone were normal, who would be able to stop these disasters from happening? Who would be the heroes?

Bah! Heroes! Did they even exist in this world anymore? Or were they strapped up, imprisoned somewhere and pumped full of drugs feeling just as useless as he did? He could only hope his past self could be more successful. It wasn't too late for him.

He slid his hand along his gelled hair and re-adjusted his leather jacket as he fought off the many memories and thoughts and made his way towards the busy streets. Walking along, he thought it funny. Here he was, surrounded by so many people yet he had never felt so alone. He could sense it. He was the only one left. The only "special" person left alone in the place they had once called their home. But he couldn't stay long. It wouldn't be long until they caught him again. He shouldn't even be here. But he had to say goodbye. Not just to his home, but to her too.

He snuck in quietly, glancing around corners with every step he took. He had to be careful. Luckily, it was mostly his mother that was home. _She_ he could handle. Nathan was a different matter. He still had a soft spot for his brother under the hard exterior he had created for himself. However, he wasn't about to let that show. Nathan already knew how much he cared for him. But he chose to ignore that. He chose his plans over his own blood. Over his own kind. Well, to Hell with him, thought Peter. He had accepted that they had grown apart, even detested each other. That was the way they were now. And there was nothing he or Nathan could do about that. Not now anyway.

He stepped in to one of the bigger rooms of the mansion; the same room he had been put when he died. He remembered how much Nathan had cared when he thought Peter was dead. And he remembered being told what a mess he had been at the loss of his baby brother. Peter wondered if he would get the same reaction now. He highly doubted it.

He stepped in further and she finally caught his eye. There she was, laid out in front of him. Pale white and lifeless. Her painted lips appeared colourless and dry, even her hair seemed to be less blonde and, instead of curls, it completely hung in lose straight strands over her face and along the arm of the sofa. Her eyes were shut and her lashes created tiny shadows over her cheekbones. She looked like she was sleeping peacefully; that she had only left him for a moment and would wake up any minute and smile at him blissfully.

He stood there for a moment with a deep frown across his face, his eyes glued to her motionless body. That was the only reaction that followed for a few moments at most, a solemn frown and unblinking eyes fixated on her and her alone as he stared vacantly at her. _She was so young, she didn't deserve this. _Part of what hurt him the most was that, even with powers, he couldn't do anything to fix this. He couldn't save her now. All he could do was go back; go back to when she was alive, to before all of this and try and stop it before it even happened. It got to the point where he couldn't look at her any longer and he tore his gaze away so fiercely that he couldn't control the trembling anymore. A single tear rolled down his cheek as his teeth shut tightly together.

His breathing intensified and he swiped at his cheeks viciously. He hadn't cried in a long time. He forgot what it felt like. And he'd rather not remember. He knelt down to her and held her close, breathing her in and wrapping his arms around her, "I'm sorry," he told her as he tried to swallow down the pain and tears, "I'm sorry I couldn't save you, Claire." Absentmindedly, he found his fingers in her mess of hair and they searched towards the back of her neck as if trying to find that spot where something may still be lodged, keeping her from regenerating. But there was nothing. He rested her back down gently with a trembling frown. There was _nothing_. He couldn't understand it. How had this happened?

"Peter," a voice approached from behind him and Peter's expression grew darker. He slowly stood back up and turned around.

"Looks like you caught me, Nathan," he growled with a sharp glare.

Nathan stood simply in front of him, dressed as usual in that ugly grey suit; like a respected politician, not a murderer-not a Villain like Peter knew he had turned out to be. His expression was hard to read but there was a hint of surprise there above anything else. He walked further in to the room and stared at his brother in disbelief.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. As if there weren't more important questions to be asked, Peter thought.

"What are _you _doing here? Thought you'd be busy with…..other things," Peter replied darkly as he remained firmly where he was.

The older man sighed as his eyes left Peter's angry gaze and fell upon the young girl's body behind him. He ignored the question and frowned, "This was never meant to happen," he muttered.

"Wasn't it?" scorned Peter, "I thought it was your intention from the start!"

"She was my daughter!" Nathan snapped with offence.

Peter snickered disdainfully and looked away from Nathan bitterly, "Well, it's too late now. She's gone. Just like the rest. Looks like you win."

"You think I wanted this?" retorted Nathan, "It wasn't my idea to execute them."

"But you wanted to get rid of us all, didn't you? Even me You wanted me gone with the rest of them. Like I was nothing to you. A year ago that bothered me but…." he paused and gave a small, careless shrug, "Not anymore."

"I gave you a choice," Nathan replied sternly, supporting his actions as if they had been rash and sensible, "And you chose to fight me. I couldn't have that."

"No, of course not," Peter muttered with sarcasm, "I wouldn't be surprised if it _was_ your idea to slaughter all those people. _People, _Nathan. If you had your way they would've gotten rid of me months ago. The only reason I'm still alive is because of my ability."

"Your ability?" Scoffed Nathan, "Pete, the only reason why you're still alive is because of _me._"

"You?" he asked with a hint of ridicule in his voice.

"I've been protecting you all this time. I know where you've been hiding all along. I track your every move," he explained carefully, as if Peter had been foolish not to notice this sooner.

The younger man hesitated before shaking his head and chewing angrily on his tongue, "No," he muttered darkly, "You weren't interested in protecting me when you knocked me out cold and sent me away on that plane. You're lying."

"Believe what you want," sighed Nathan, "I wanted to confine you all, not murder you," he pushed past his younger sibling and knelt down beside his former estranged daughter, "I can't protect you for much longer. I couldn't protect her. If you're going to run, you better do it soon."

Again, there was another brief silence as Peter considered his brother's words. He watched as Nathan placed the lose strands of Claire's hair behind her ears. He wrinkled his nose, unconvinced, "Why would you help me now? After everything? After all of this?"

"That's simple, Pete," Nathan replied softly, looking up as his hand left Claire's pale face, "It's because you're my brother. And I love you."

The words were actually a relief. But it only lasted for a few seconds. This all seemed too familiar and Peter didn't like it one bit. Then he remembered. Years ago, when he got his powers back shortly after their father had died and the lab had set on fire, he had saved Nathan from being engulfed from the flames._ Because you're my brother and I love you. _The words he had answered with when Nathan had demanded why he had done such a thing and saved his life. And how did his brother repay him? _Not what I would've done. _Then nothing for days, weeks, months. Nathan wouldn't have done the same thing for Peter. Not then, not now. His fingernails stabbed at his palms.

"You're lying," he snapped roughly, "You would kill me if you could. Like you killed her!" his voice raised towards the end and so did his fists. He lunged for Nathan furiously and punched him in the face. Nathan's back hit the wall behind him as his back and cheek radiated with pain.

Peter shook the pain from his fists. After all this time he had used powers to kick his brother's ass when things got heated. It was nice to finally use his fists again.

"That was a weak punch," muttered Nathan, "I gather you don't have Suresh's power anymore," he added as he pushed himself off the wall and struggled back to his feet.

"Lucky for you," he replied, storming over to him and striking him again. He stumbled back instantly, yelling out in pain, "Waited a long time to finally do that."

"You do know," Nathan breathed as Peter slowly walked towards him with a patronisingly fake concern, "If you carry on like this, it will not end well for either of us."

"What're you going to do, Nathan? Lock me up? Deem me a threat to the nation? Oh wait…you've done _that_," he hissed before grabbing Nathan by his shirt and shoving him violently against the wall. He wanted to throw him across the room. He wanted to hurt him badly like he had hurt him and so many others. He wanted Nathan to pay. But before he could make another move, he heard a shot sound from behind him and then something pierce his skin. He started to lose control of his body and his grip loosened on Nathan. He tried to fight it, he lasted longer than he usually would have. But he wasn't strong enough. He let go of his brother and tumbled to the floor. _Why do you have to make things so hard for yourself, Pete. _The last words he heard before his eyes slowly closed shut and he lost consciousness.

~*~

"Do you know what we do to people like you?" sneered a harsh voice from somewhere in front of him.

He shuddered in his seat and felt his breathing pace increase. His breaths were short and fearful. No matter how hard he tried not to be, he was scared. And no amount of resentment or confidence could change that. The years and suffering had shaped him dramatically. But he couldn't retain what he was feeling. He couldn't help the feeling that so many of his friends-that Claire-had been put in this very situation. And now they were dead. Perhaps he was afraid he would soon follow down that path. Or maybe it was just the disorientation. He couldn't see or breathe properly. It wasn't until the mask was pulled off and he could finally see the man in front of him that he began to feel more angry then afraid. The man facing him had recognisable silver hair and cold glassy eyes. Peter had seen him before. He knew him as 'The Hunter' but didn't know much more. Despite all the research and the spying, "The Hunter" remained a frightening mystery.

"You can't do this," he snarled with enragement. He shook slightly and little bumps formed on his arms and down his back. Thankfully, the orange uniform covered his body so the other man could not see his fear. But he sensed it.

"We already have," he spat bitterly, "I'm surprised you didn't give up sooner. So many of your friends have failed in the past."

This only made him angrier, "You killed them." At that moment, the only power he wanted most was Mohinder's. Perhaps then he'd be able to break out of the shackles and give this guy what he deserved. A good beating. Unfortunately, he still had Hiro's power. And it was one that had become useful to Peter ever since it was discovered Hiro had his time travelling power back and had been abducted again. Peter had to keep hold of it so he could go back. He always had to go back. It was the only way. He continued, "They never hurt anyone."

"On the contrary, that's why they were executed. Sooner or later they attacked us, killed us…they were a threat. And it's my job to remove that threat. You people are dangerous. Take a look at yourself. You tried to beat your own brother senseless today. If my team hadn't of gotten there in time, you'd have probably killed him."

He sniggered to himself and glanced down to the floor, "I bet you don't even know he's one of us."

"One of you? I've been told before. But I highly doubt that, Mr. Petrelli. We've looked in to it and found nothing"

They obviously didn't look hard enough.

"I'm going to find a way to stop you," he threatened, "I swear it. You're not going to get away with this."

"I'm sure," the other man replied sarcastically, "And how would you go about doing that?"

He smirked slightly, "Sooner or later, I'm going to get a lot more powers. Not just one, a whole lot. Then I'll be able to choose between electrifying you with my own hands or throwing you across the room with a simple flick of my finger or maybe knocking you out cold with one simple punch. I haven't decided yet. Maybe I'll settle on a decision when I get my powers."

"So you'll be untouchable?" asked The Hunter, unmoved by Peter's threats, "Just like Sylar?"

Peter nodded confidentially.

"Well, it's just a shame we caught him earlier this month. Granted, it took a couple of years but we got there in the end," the older man smirked darkly.

Peter's expression fell, "You caught Sylar?" No. This couldn't be. Sylar was the one person they could never catch. His abilities were the only thing protecting him from these people.

"Not so untouchable now, is he? It just shows, Mr. Petrelli, you don't need powers to beat us. You _can't _beat us. And the sooner you accept that, the easier all of this will be."

He was speechless. He was trying to think of other alternatives, hanging on to whatever hope was left lingering in the air. But there was nothing. The Hunter leant closer to him, "Now brace yourself, Peter," he added bitterly, "You're in for a rough couple of months." The hood was pulled back over his eyes and there was nothing more but eternal darkness.

**TBC.**

_Would appreciate comments, if anyone is interesting in being a Beta for future chapters please let me know :)_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two.**

**Present Day**

He remembered what happened last time he needed Sylar's abilities. He remembered what happened to him and it made him sick. Hopefully, it wouldn't happen again. It couldn't. He would never become that monster again. No, this time it would be different. It was the only way, after all. It _had _to work. He thought back to the urgency in his other form's voice when he told him Claire was dead. That his friends were dead and he had to stop that from happening. No matter what, he had to stop it.

Unfortunately, last time Peter saw Sylar was months ago and he had no clue where the man was now. But he had another idea.

He pulled out a key from his jeans pocket and unlocked the cream coloured door in front of him which was labelled with the number "23".

"Peter, thank God. I've been going out of my mind here!" Matt's voice greeted him from the table as he opened the door and walked in, making sure the door was firmly locked behind him.

"Sorry, there was something I had to do," Peter admitted solemnly as he threw the keys to the side.

"Well, what did you say? Uh, I mean _he_."

Peter debated whether he should tell Matt the truth. That in the future, he would most likely die-that all his friends would die and that it was up to them to stop these terrible events from taking place. He hesitated. Matt had suffered enough loss with Daphne and he knew he had been struggling with everything that was happening. He simply sat on the chair across from him and told him quite calmly that they needed to find Sylar.

"Sylar?" Matt choked, "Why would you want to find _him_? He's a murderer! He's _insane_!"

"You don't think I know that?" snapped Peter, "I need my powers back, Matt. It's the only way we'll stop them."

Matt sat back, unimpressed with Peter's words, "So you want to find Sylar thinking he'll be able to get you your powers back….and that's what's going to save us?" he shook his head.

"Look, Sylar's practically indestructible with his abilities. In fact, he _is _indestructible! No one can touch him! If I could have that same protection, that same strength then maybe we'd have more of a fighting chance."

"Oh yeah, I get it," he mumbled "So you're going to get your powers back and you're the one who's going to save us all. Not all of us together. Just you."

Peter turned away and rolled his eyes, "You don't understand."

"You don't even know that going to see Sylar will get you more abilities. That's just blind hope."

"Come on, Matt!" Peter objected, desperately as he got to his feet and leant slightly over the table, "Don't you think hope is all we've got right now! I need to do this. And if you're not coming with me, then just stay here. Wait for them to come if that's what you want! But I'm gonna try and end this once and for all!"

Matt sat quietly for a minute or two before looking down guiltily, "Alright, I'm sorry. I'm with you, it's just…after Daphne….I want them to pay for what they've done," he admitted miserably, "For what they're doing. I just…I want to be the one who looks them in the eye and tells them to go to Hell. I want to be the one to make them regret they ever laid eyes on her," his own eyes stung but no tears would fall.

"It's okay. I get it," Peter sat back down, "I know how you feel. I've had so many people I love in my life.…" he paused, unable to finish. Simone, Caitlyn, his father. The list went on. He cleared his throat and took in a deep breath "…and now they're gone," his eyes drifted to the table as he thought back, "Which is why I need to do this. _We _need to do this. To stop anymore people from getting hurt."

Matt looked up sombrely and nodded, "Alright. So what now? We don't know where he is."

"Well," Peter began as he reached under the table and pulled out a few blank pieces of paper and placed them in front of him, "I was hoping you could help with that."

Matt sighed, "Can't you do it?"

Peter leant his arm on the back of his chair and shrugged, "It's been a while. I'm kind of rusty. Besides, I'm liking Mohinder's power at the moment. It's coming in handy."

The other man sighed once again, "Okay. I'll try. But I'm still kind of new to this," he warned. Peter nodded enthusiastically. Matt took a deep breath and closed his eyes. When opening them again, the deep brown had turned to bright white and soon enough, he picked up a pencil, grabbed a sheet of paper and began to draw.

Peter watched him curiously, remembering when he had such an ability. Well, it wouldn't be long, he told himself, until he had that power again. And many more.

The front door swung open and Peter jumped up in alarm. Luckily, it was only Mohinder. But then after Mohinder shut the door and locked it, he slammed the keys down on the table angrily,

"Why is there a car parked outside our room?" he demanded like a furious parent.

Peter let out an annoyed breath as he sat back down in his seat, "I bought it."

"You bought a car?" he repeated, "Do you realise how much money we have? Not enough to buy a car with that's for certain!"

"Relax," Peter sighed feeling like he was a teenager again being chastised by his parents, or worse, his brother, "I bought it because we may need to go on a long journey."

Mohinder looked at him with bemusement, "Journey? Journey where?"

"We'll see, shall we," Peter smiled as he indicated to Matt drawing busily, undeterred by the interruption.

It wasn't long until the ex-policeman put down his pencil and had finished the drawing. His eyes returned to dark brown as two other pairs of dark brown eyes continued to stare at the new drawing in astonishment.

Peter looked up at his companions, "We need to go."

~*~

"This is absurd!" Mohinder complained as he and Peter bundled themselves in to the new car, "Do you even know where we're going?"

"Well, we can't stay here!" Peter observed, "According to _this _drawing they'll be here any minute!" Peter raised the sketch to Mohinder's view. It showed the three of them on the ground, struggling underneath the force of masked men with guns as they handcuffed Peter, Matt and Mohinder, ready to take them away, lock them up and throw away the key. They were in the same hotel room where the clock in the background clearly said '10:15'. Presently, the time was 10am. "The sooner we get out of here the better!"

--

Matt hurriedly made his way around the corner, the cash and room keys ready in hand. There wasn't much time. He approached the reception.

"They've probably heard us coming and ran," he heard a familiar voice say. Bennet?

He caught his breath and hid behind the wall. If they saw him it was game over.

"Look, Bennet we were sent here to do a job and we're going to do it. Quit wasting time."

"Perhaps we would have been more subtle if there weren't so many of us here to collect them," Mr. Bennet muttered angrily.

"Three potentially dangerous fugitives. Possibly armed and, if you're correct, prepared for our arrival. We need reinforcements."

They were quieter after that. But Matt could see from where he was that one of the men were showing the receptionist three different photos and asking her questions. He could feel his forehead begin to sweat and was too afraid to move.

He froze when he noticed Bennet was looking directly at him. Suddenly, he heard his voice echoing inside his mind.

_Parkman. You need to go now. Get your friends and get out of here. I'll try to stall these guys. Just go. _

He paused a brief moment after receiving the message. Why was Bennet helping him? He took no more time in puzzling over the situation. Immediately, he walked away in the opposite direction, towards the car park and out of the hotel.

"We need to get out of here now. They're here!" Matt warned as he jumped in to the backseat. Peter started the engine and reversed the car as the other two looked nervously towards the hotel.

"Quickly, Peter. I think they're coming," voiced Mohinder anxiously as he saw a group of darkly dressed figures emerge from the reception and head towards them.

Soon enough, they had swiftly escaped and were on the road to safety. Relieved sighs and laughter filled the previously tense atmosphere as all three of them smiled at each other, pleased with their narrow escape.

"Back on the road," Mohinder sighed through his relief, "Wherever we go, they find us. This is useless."

"Don't give up, Mohinder. Don't worry. Soon this will all be over," reassured Peter as he sifted through his backpack, making sure not to keep his eyes off the road (or the rear-view mirror) for too long. He pulled out more paper and another pencil and handed it to Matt behind him, "Mind if you keep drawing? I have no idea where I'm going here."

Matt frowned and took the paper from him, "Sure. But I can't promise it will be anything useful."

"I'll take anything you've got right now," Peter sighed. No direction, nowhere to sleep, nothing to eat. This wasn't going to be easy. But this was to be expected. Peter realised the situation would be tough on all of them. But as long as they remained together, things would be easier. This is what he told himself, anyway. He wondered what Nathan was doing and then questioned whether he even wanted to know.

It was past noon by the time Matt had finished. They stopped at a petrol station and sat down for something to eat while they examined the drawings and tried to figure out what they meant.

"This one's Sylar," noted Mohinder as he picked up one of the pictures of a dark haired man, Sylar, sitting at what looked like a diner with someone much younger than him. A boy, about sixteen or seventeen years old.

"Who's the kid?" asked Peter, taking a bite out of his bread roll.

Matt-who sat opposite-shrugged, appearing to be clueless, "No idea," he replied leaning over the counter as he picked up his drawings, "These don't make any sense to me, as usual," he sighed with disappointment. He supposed they were still lost with no more direction then they did two hours ago.

"Well, he's obviously on the road," spoke up Peter with more confidence.

"With a teenage accomplice," added Mohinder, indicating to the young boy in the picture.

"But why?" Matt asked the question that was on all of their minds. But no one could answer it.

Mohinder rubbed his aching temples, "Well, this is obviously pointless."

"What do you want us to do, Mohinder? Get caught?" quizzed Peter with a slight scowl, "Can't you have faith that this will work?"

"Faith? I'm a scientist, Peter."

"No, you're not," Peter added roughly, "You're a prisoner on the run. A fugitive. You're not a scientist anymore. We're not what we were. We left everything behind."

"I faintly recall," Mohinder remarked with sarcasm.

"We've got to work together, guys," insisted Peter, "We have to stay positive."

"He's right," Matt interrupted.

The other two men looked at him. Mohinder shook his head, "I just don't understand you two. What if this doesn't work? What if Sylar ends up killing us all? We should keep hiding. From them _and _him."

Peter could feel himself grow impatient, "Look, I didn't want to say anything," he began with frustration, "But in the future some really bad things start happening. Worse then things at the moment. Much worse." Matt and Mohinder listened curiously as Peter pushed his plate away and leant closer to them, "In the future, they kill us. They kill you, Claire, all of us," he paused for a second as the horrified expressions of his companions continued to stare back at him, "They start _executing_ us. Do you see now why I have to do anything I can to prevent this from happening?"

Mohinder sat back, suddenly feeling his appetite vanish with his previous criticism. But he nodded miserably and didn't say another word.

"Now, is there anything else in these drawings that can indicate where to go?"

All three of them stared at the pictures closely, trying to identify any details they may have missed. No such luck though and it seemed the drawings had been pretty much useless.

"_A murder has been reported in Newark, New Jersey where the victim was found to have suffered serious burn injuries before death. The body of the unknown man was found in the home of Mary Campbell who claims an unidentified man had broken in to her home, tortured her and abducted her son."_

This sounded intriguing. The three of them turned their attention to the TV screen beside them where a picture of a boy flashed on to the screen.

"_If anyone has any information on this mysterious stranger or the missing Luke Campbell please contact us on this number…"_

"That's the boy from Matt's drawing," pointed out Mohinder excitedly, "Sylar must have been there!"

"Are you sure that's him?" Peter asked.

"Definitely," replied Matt, "I recognise him. That's the kid with Sylar."

Peter nodded and collected up the drawings to place back in his bag, "Newark, New Jersey-here we come."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three.**

**Three years in to the future, 2 days after visiting the past.**

They threw him down in to a small room that looked much like a prison cell. That was basically what this was. A prison. He was drugged, couldn't tell right from left as they grabbed his arms and ankles and chained him up to the wall. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't teleport out of there. He felt too weak. Or maybe something else was stopping him. But he felt useless and he realised there was nothing more he could do. For him it was over. He had to rely on his younger self now. To stop all this before it happened. But for now, he would have to endure this brutal treatment. His head rested against the wall, showing off the bruises on his forehead and cheek. His skin throbbed with pain, even his scar began to hurt again as if it were only a few weeks old.

"My God, Pete. Look at you," he heard his brother say from somewhere in front of him as the other men left them alone in the room. Peter's eyes blurred, all he could see was a swirling darkness. But then Nathan came in to view. He avoided his apparently concerned stare and looked at the chains that bound him to the wall, preventing his escape. He tried to move, maybe prise himself free. But it was no use.

"For so long, I never thought I'd see you in here," Nathan went on to say, "We lost sight of you a long time ago. Even the others wouldn't tell us where you were hiding."

"Is this what you did to them, Nathan?" Peter growled hatefully through his drowsiness, "Chained them up like animals in some rotting prison cell. Drugged them…_beat them…_Waited until they had some hope left before you lined them up against a wall…"

"I told you," Nathan added, "None of this was what I wanted."

"But you still let it happen," Peter muttered, looking up at his older brother with a dark glare.

"I did what I had to. Ever since Danko decided to start executing you all…there was nothing I could do. I tried to protect you. And Claire. I don't care if you don't believe me. But that's the truth."

Peter was silent for a few moments as he dreamily looked to the ceiling, almost all hope lost. He felt like he wasn't quite here. Like he was floating. But the fear and hatred remained, "Is that going to happen to me?" he asked Nathan, same level of bitterness in his voice, "They've chained me up, hit me just like with the others. They're going to kill me too?"

"I'm not going to let that happen."

He laughed resentfully, "You let it happen to Claire."

"That's different. You're my brother. No matter what's happened between us, I'm not going to let them do that to you."

"Are you kidding me?" he laughed harder, "Now you're the protective brother figure again? You're gonna save my life, Nathan? Be the Hero?"

Nathan gnawed on his lip at his brother's persistence, "Don't make me change my mind, Pete."

Peter glanced up at him, the smallest amount of light remained in his eyes and even a small smile played upon his lips, much to Nathan's annoyance. Even with that hideous scar, Nathan could still see who he really was. His baby brother. And nothing would ever change that. He wasn't going to change his mind. He would fight his brother, threaten him, change every aspect of his life….but he could never let him die.

"Try not to make him angry," Nathan warned him, referring to The Hunter as he walked over to the door. He stared at his younger brother one last time, wanting to say more._ Needing _to say more. But no words would come to him. He simply walked out of the room and left Peter alone in the darkness.

~*~

**Present Day**

"You sure this is the address?" Matt asked as he got out of the car which parked on the side of the road outside a house which they assumed to be the Campbell residence.

"It's the address I wrote down," Mohinder answered as he and Peter joined Matt outside the house. They stared at it for a few moments, thinking of a way to approach the situation.

"This isn't going to be easy. I doubt she'll be able to help us," Mohinder commented pessimistically. The woman had been through a lot. He presumed she wouldn't take to three random strangers asking her a load of questions about the man who tortured her and abducted her son too well.

"Perhaps Peter and I should just go in. She might think it's strange, the three of us at her door," Matt suggested, showing obvious hesitation.

"And what am I supposed to do? Wait in the car?" Mohinder replied dryly.

"Well, you obviously don't think this is a good idea!"

"Will you two stop," Peter rolled his eyes, sick of the arguing, "You guys go in. I'll have a look around. See if I can spot anything that may be useful. Just be careful. We're not the only ones looking for Sylar."

The other two sighed but nodded before they split up and Peter headed off in the opposite direction.

The cold air of the afternoon blew through his hair as he walked along the pavement cautiously. He was tense and couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. They had ways of tracking them, ways of seeing them wherever they went. He knew he had to be ready for the unexpected. They had to be prepared no matter what. The sooner this was all over the better, he thought.

It was ironic, he added to himself, that in such a stressful and scary situation all he wanted to do was run to his brother for help. Just like he did when he feared he was going to blow up and kill so many innocent people. Nathan had helped him then and risked his own life to save others. But now, running to Nathan for guidance wasn't going to work. Now, Nathan was the enemy. And no matter how many times he went over it in his head, he found it so hard to accept that.

As well as that, Peter couldn't stop his thoughts drifting to Claire and what would happen to her if he didn't do something soon. He hoped wherever she was now she was safe. The girl had been through enough in her life already. She wasn't supposed to have to deal with such horrors. She should have the chance to be a normal young woman just like she had wanted. Peter realised now to be normal wasn't an option for him anymore. It was far too late for the likes of him or Matt or Mohinder. They resented it, but it was something that they had slowly come to accept. There would always be something, whether it was saving the world or running for their lives. Nothing would ever be the same. And they all knew that now. But Claire had the protection she needed. She had to forget about them and all of this, no matter how hard it was. It was the only way she could be safe.

He kept telling himself he could fix this. All of it. He would find Sylar, find a way to get his abilities back and then they would fight. He would be stronger, faster. His new ability slowed him down, made him weak.

The first time, Claude had trained him to use his mimicking ability. That was the first time Peter finally felt in control of what he could do. He had tried to focus all his energy on being able to absorb more than one power, but every time he tried, failure was sure to follow. And he wasn't about to jump off anymore buildings to test himself.

"Hey," he heard a voice greet him. He stopped cautiously and turned to face the stranger who had spoken to him. He wore a black hood that almost covered his eyes and his clothes were dark to match.

"Can I help you?" he asked, slightly confused by the sudden disturbance. He stepped back ever so slightly, suspicions rising.

"Yeah. I'm, uh, I'm looking for someone," the other man said gently stepping towards him.

"Oh yeah?" Peter asked, prepared to turn and walk away. He couldn't afford to take risks. Even if this guy was completely innocent, he couldn't be seen talking to anybody. He shouldn't even be out in the open like this, "What does he look like?"

He pulled his hood back to reveal his face. Peter didn't recognise the man but he had a frightening look in his eye and a threatening smirk that told Peter he was in trouble and that it was time to run. He turned away only to bump right in to another, taller man.

"Well, Mr. Petrelli. He looks just like you," the previously hooded man smiled darkly. They raised their guns.

Peter's mind thundered with panic. It would all be over if he didn't do something now! He pushed the taller man away and ran right past him. That's when he felt a shock in his back and he allowed himself a few seconds to recover before breathing through the pain and continuing to run, no matter how much it hurt. He knew Mohinder's power would come in useful. The first couple hardly affected him. But the shocks wouldn't stop coming and it wasn't long before he had almost slowed to a halt. He felt two men grab him from behind and even though he felt so close to passing out, he kicked his feet and struggled and yelled until he could break free. He felt the life being sucked from him and it reminded him of when his father had torn his powers away from him. The painful sting and the betrayal mixed in to one was enough to give him enough anger and strength to fight back. And now he could feel the same rage and intense strength return to him. He kicked away the men in front of him and they soared across the ground and in to some nearby trash cans. He managed to break his arm free and hit one of the men behind him in the face. He stumbled backwards, leaving the other man so stunned it was much easier to pull away and clock him too. But then Peter did something completely unexpected.

He flew.

------------

"Can I help you?" a dark haired woman with pink frowning lips opened the door to see the two men staring down at her. She had droopy eyes and pale skin and it looked like she hadn't slept in weeks.

"Uh, yes," Matt replied, "Mary Campbell? We're here to ask you some questions about what happened the other week."

"I don't want to answer anymore questions," she muttered monotonously, beginning to close the door.

Mohinder held the door open, "Wait! What my assistant means is," he glanced at Matt who seemed to be glaring ever so slightly at him, "is that we want to help you," he added, turning his attention back to Mary who's expression had become more confused.

"You want to help me?"

"I'm Doctor Murti and this is my lab assistant doctor Brookes," explained Mohinder as he leant slightly closer, "We want to talk to you about the man who was here. Did he exhibit some strange behaviour? I mean, did he appear to have unusual abilities? Perhaps something you've never seen before? Like…moving objects with his mind…or…"

"Come in," she said sharply. She held the door open and that was it.

Mohinder looked over at Matt who shrugged simply. It seemed the hard part was over. Now they needed answers. They walked in to the house and looked around. Everything seemed normal enough, except the carpet had been pulled up and it looked like the living room had been moved around quite a bit.

"So, what do you want to ask?" she muttered, they could see the pain and misery that shone in her eyes.

Mohinder opened his mouth to answer, though hesitated slightly before proceeding, "We have reason to believe that the man who broke in to your house was a man called Sylar. He's highly dangerous. We were researching him and his abilities before he escaped and found his way here. Do you have any idea where he may have gone?"

Ms Campbell glanced down to the floor for a short while as a frown grew across her face. She sighed, "I've already told the police everything I know about that. He mentioned something about finding his father. I think that's why my son went too. To show him the way."

Mohinder shot a curious glance at Matt. His father? Last time Mohinder had heard any mention of Sylar's family, the Petrelli's were claiming to be his parents. _That's my son. _The words he had heard Arthur Petrelli tell him as he almost killed the man he had angrily gripped in his scaly hands. He knew those were all lies now, of course. But still, this must have inspired Sylar to find his real parents. That's where he was going and that's where he, Peter and Matt would have to go now if they were going to complete this mission-ridiculous and far-stretched as it was.

"Do you know where he is? His father?"

Again, she hesitated, "I can write you an address, yes. But I haven't spoken to him in ages. He's a bad man. I didn't want my son anywhere near him," another sigh and she shook slightly, "But everything's changed so much now. I don't understand any of this. They're all monsters. All three of them."

"I'm sorry," Matt replied impatiently, coming closer, "Do you think we could have that address?"

She sighed again and began to write it down on a small piece of paper. As she handed it over to Matt, she looked at him and Mohinder closely, "The things that man did….it's impossible isn't it? The cops think I'm crazy. But you two…you believe me," she pushed back her mess of hair despairingly, "My son…he can do it too. He's just like this Sylar, as you call him. He's dangerous. Very dangerous," she swallowed, pained, "If you find him…don't bring him back to me. Lock him up. That's the safest thing for all of us."

They stared at her as her eyes began to water and she looked away. They thought it best to leave immediately. It seemed her son had an ability too. They doubted he was as dangerous as Sylar. But then again, if he were travelling with the man it could be possible he would have some influence on him. The important thing was that they now had an address. Sylar was on his way there and they had to follow him.

They paused before reaching the car, "You hear that?" Matt asked, looking up slightly.

"Hear what?"

A soft whistling sound, like an aeroplane, accompanied by an echoing cry of pain. And then it wasn't long before the source of the noises had landed right in front of them and had collapsed on the floor agitatedly twitching in fits of agony.

"Peter?" Mohinder said aloud, astonished by the sudden arrival. Matt immediately bent down to help him, pulling the darts out from his skin. He breathed through the pain, trying his best to recover from what had just happened. Mohinder was still staring at him in amazement, "Peter…you flew."

Peter only looked up at them both, his teeth tightly together as the pain continued to expand throughout his body, and he simply warned them, "Get in the car. Now!"

~*~

"It's been an hour," he heard a concerned voice say.

"Give him time, he'll come round eventually."

He twitched slightly, eyes opening ever so gently, the occasional headlights of a passing vehicle every so often shining on to his face through the darkness and causing him to close his eyes again and squint. Groggily, he took in a breath and swiped tiredly at his eyes as he then realised he was slumped in the back seat of the car, head resting against the windowpane. His black jacket had been taken off and rested on the seat beside him. His skin stung. Through his blurred vision he could see two figures in the front seats ahead of him.

"Peter," Matt said gently from the driver's seat as he spotted him waking up from his deep slumber, "How're you feeling? You've been out for a while."

"What happened?" he asked, ignoring the question and drowsily sitting upright.

"Shortly after we met up you passed out," informed Mohinder, "Don't worry, we got away safely. And we have an address to find Sylar…" he paused, "But we've been wanting to ask, is there still reason to find him now?"

Peter ran a hand through his hair, still recovering and trying to get his energy back, "What do you mean?"

Mohinder shot a small glance in Matt's direction before continuing, "Well, it's just…you flew."

"I did?" Peter pinched the skin between his eyes, his head beginning to pound. Then he remembered, "I did. I flew."

"How can that be?" Matt asked, glancing from the road to Peter, "Don't you still have Mohinder's power?"

Peter looked down momentarily at his hands, "Yeah." How can that be possible? He thought he had seen the last of his old empathic power. His father had taken it from him. And now he could only have one at a time and presently, he had two.

"Are you sure?" Mohinder asked.

"I took about six or seven of those darts before I passed out, Mohinder. So yeah, I'm sure," his gaze moved back down to his own hands as his thoughts tried to process all this in a logical way.

"What happened?"

"I was just walking along when they grabbed me. Nathan wasn't there, I'm pretty sure of it," he explained with a slight scowl at the mention of his brother, "I broke free and then before I knew it I was up in the air." Perhaps this was his power returning to him? Perhaps not? All he knew was that he now had two abilities instead of one.

Well, it was a start.

Matt turned his attention to Mohinder, "Do you know how that's possible?"

The other man furrowed his brows and thought hard for a moment before shaking his head, "It's hard to say," he looked at Peter, "Your powers occurred naturally, which means there must be some trace of the genetic code left in your DNA. Even when your father took them from you, he couldn't take your DNA. The formula must have activated it again, like the eclipse. But it's been altered some way. It's hard to comprehend. Even I have trouble understanding it."

"So I still have part of my old ability?"

"It's possible," Mohinder admitted with a small shrug, "But the question is, does this mean we can spare ourselves a visit to our old friend Sylar?"

He took a moment to think. Surely, if his powers were returning to him, he wouldn't need Sylar? But then, none of them could explain _how _Peter had gotten Nathan's power again and it couldn't be known how long it would take for the rest of them to return to him, if they were going to return at all. And Peter didn't have time to wait around and see what happened. Something needed to be done now.

"No," he finally answered Mohinder in a serious tone, "I have to see him. I don't know if this will even last. I need the others too. I need Sylar's powers. It's the only way."

"You sound like a broken record," muttered Mohinder, leaning back in his seat with frustration.

Peter shot him an angry glare, "Do you trust me, Mohinder?"

"Well, it seems I have no choice in the matter."

"Do you trust me?" Peter repeated himself, the glare remaining.

Mohinder sighed heavily and softened a little as he admitted that he did.

"And do you, Matt? Do you trust me?"

Matt looked at him from the rear-view mirror and nodded, "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

"Then you trust my decision to do this. I don't want to put you guys in danger," he told them, shifting in his seat slightly, "Look, I've seen a different side to Sylar. He saved my life. He may have been the bad guy once but I believe he can help us. He should be on our side, they're after him too." The other two men listened to him intently, "I don't know what's going on with my powers and yeah, I don't know if this will work. But we're running out of options. All I know is that right now things are bad and pretty soon they're gonna get a whole lot worse. So you're either with me or you're not."

There was a brief silence as Matt and Mohinder exchanged serious glances with each other. Peter patiently awaited an answer. Looking up from the wheel one more time, Matt locked eyes with Peter and nodded confidently, "I'm with you, Peter."

"Me too," Mohinder added, a tiny smile playing on his lips.

Peter returned the small smile and nodded back, "Right." Having got that out of the way, his expression became more serious, "Now, what's this address?"

**Tbc**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four.**

**Three years in to the future, 4 days after visiting the past.**

"How many more tests are you going to do?" muttered Peter drowsily as he could hardly sit up straight while he was being poked and prodded and whatever else these so called doctors were doing to him.

They didn't answer, as usual. They weren't meant to speak. They were told not to. But it never stopped him from asking.

"What are you hoping to find?" he demanded, hardly keeping his eyes open as they took another blood sample from the vein in his left arm.

Again, silence.

He dropped his head back slightly and closed his eyes. It was no use. They continued to take x-rays, injections, scans, whatever possible to reach their objective. Whatever that may be. He felt so tired, it was as if he wasn't in the room. His eyelids were so heavy they felt as if they were indented to his cheeks. But it took his mind off his stomach. He couldn't remember the last time he ate a proper meal. It had felt like weeks, rather than days. He couldn't take it much longer. They changed his diet and recorded how his body responded, they made him do stupid exercises and jotted down his reactions, they had observed him and taken DNA samples…He felt like a lab rat and when they were done playing around with him they'd kill him off without any further thought.

When he opened his heavy eyelids he could've sworn he saw someone very familiar standing in front of him dressed in a white lab coat. He blinked-impossible. Just an effect of the drugs. Or the hunger. Or the exhaustion. Or maybe even the stress. But then the blurry figure did something to make him think otherwise.

He came in to view and there he was, standing over him solemnly and the only words that escaped him were, "Hello, Peter."

Peter swallowed and creased his forehead as he squinted his eyes slightly, trying hard to focus on the man in front of him, "Mohinder?"

"It's been a while."

Peter tried his best to sit upright, his shock was hidden by the immense exhaustion that seemed to take over his body, "I thought you were dead."

"So did I," Mohinder sighed as he walked over to the counter and began to put on a pair of rubber gloves, "They held me here for months. Testing me, observing me," he walked back over to Peter who struggled to keep eye contact, "But when they weren't making any progress, they made me an offer."

"An offer?" Peter spluttered, his facial expression appeared confused yet angry.

"Yes. Your brother told me that if I came to work for him that I would be protected from all of this ludicrousness. He told me that if I were to find a way to rid of these abilities that this would all stop. That we would be safe and they wouldn't need to hunt us anymore."

Peter tried to laugh but it came out stifled and weak, "And you believed that? A year later and here you are, still working for them. After everything they've done. How many times are you going to do this, Mohinder? Allow yourself to be manipulated like this?"

"I did what I thought was necessary to protect us. And once I said yes, I couldn't back out. They'd kill me as soon as they had no further use for me," snapped Mohinder, angrily.

"You were my friend, Mohinder. All this time I thought they had killed you. I thought you were on our side."

Mohinder formed a twisted smile at the irony, "You sound just like Matt. Right before they murdered him," he added bitterly, fiddling with the equipment on the table beside him, "I'm sorry, Peter. Soon, they're going to schedule you for a brain surgery to see if they can find any answers there. I'm certain that they won't, just like all the other times. But they're curious about you. Your ability is quite different to the others they've seen….I'm afraid that once they find there's nothing more they can do…."

"I know," Peter replied quietly. He knew what was going to happen, whether his brother wanted it or not. And then there was no more talking.

~*~

**Present day**

Mohinder blinked hard as he tried to concentrate fully on the road in front of him. He glanced at Matt who was fast asleep in the passenger seat and Peter who remained in the back seat, slouched against the window with his eyes firmly closed.

Matt snored beside him and Mohinder had the urge to wake him to stop the persistent noise. He was tired and cranky and he wanted to go home. He missed his warm apartment with his comfortable bed and full refrigerator. He even missed that damn taxi cab. His neck ached and his stomach begged for food. His eyes yearned for rest as they continued to sting and remind him of how exhausted he was. He chewed his tongue agitatedly before nudging Matt awake.

"Matt…Matt…wake up! For God's sake!"

Matt turned, refusing to awaken from his blissful escape of sleep. Mohinder punched him in the arm, causing Matt to snap open his eyes and yell out in pain. Perhaps that was a little too hard. But Mohinder didn't waste time in apologising.

"Matt, you need to take over the wheel before I get in to an accident. I can hardly keep my eyes open," yawned Mohinder, glancing from the road back to the man next to him.

Matt found himself yawning too, "You sure you can't go a little farther?" he asked groggily.

"Yes, I'm sure. Now take over before I accidentally kill us all."

They pulled over and made the switch. As Mohinder opened the door to the passenger seat, he paused for a moment.

Matt stared at him as he stood opposite. "What is it?"

"I think we're here."

Trying his best to concentrate as he began to drink his second cup of coffee, Mohinder followed the other two men as they discussed the plan.

"So we're just going to walk in there?" Matt asked as they paced along the path of the town, "What if he tries something? He's Sylar's father after all . We have no idea what he's capable of!"

"Keep your voice down," warned Peter as a man and a woman passed by them, "If he tries anything we'll be ready. With any luck Sylar will already be there. If he's not, we'll just have to ask."

"And you think he'll tell us?" Mohinder chimed in from behind, "I meant what I said before about trusting you, Peter but this all sounds rather dangerous."

He swallowed, pausing before answering, "I know. But have you got any better ideas?"

Mohinder glanced to his shoes for a second or two, eyes moving back and forth at a fast pace as he thought to himself carefully. Matt and Peter stood opposite, awaiting a reply, "We could try a slightly different approach…" he started.

He twitched slightly as he approached the front door alone. It was a simple plan from Mohinder. He and Matt would sneak in the back while Peter knocked on the front door. If the other man tried anything, they would be ready to grab him from behind. Then Matt would read his mind and find out where Sylar had gone, if he had been there at all. Of course, there was the possibility that Sylar was already in there. And as saddened as Peter was to break up another family reunion, he believed there were more pressing matters to get on with.

He was focused but nervous as he raised his hand to knock on the door. He had seen another side to Sylar. He believed he could reason with him this time, convince him all of their lives were in danger and it was only a matter of time before they were all captured, or worse, killed-unless they did something to stop it. He knew what he was going to say. He just hoped he would be given the chance to say it before he got his back slammed in to the wall and a deep red mark carved across his forehead. But he shouldn't worry about that anyway. With Mohinder's super strength, grabbing him should be no trouble at all. Not if he's taken by surprise. Then Peter could strike him, weakening him in the progress. Maybe then he'd be able to explain himself.

He knocked on the door, breathing in deeply. Whether Sylar was there or not, he was ready. And he was ready for whoever opened this door.

Perhaps he spoke too soon. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as a much younger than expected person opened the door. A teenage boy with brown hair and dark chaotic eyes. Even through the surprise, he couldn't help but think the boy seemed familiar. He seemed just as nervous and perplexed as Peter did. But at the same time he appeared to be angry and frustrated.

"Who are you?" he asked Peter, glancing over his shoulders to see who else was there.

Peter snapped out of his thoughts for now, "I'm, uh, looking for Gabriel. Gabriel Gray? I thought this was his father's house…"

"No," the boy muttered, "he's not here. Nobody is."

"That's funny," Peter replied, seeing through his lies, "This was the address I was given. Are you sure he isn't here?"

"I think you should go," the boy threatened, beginning to form a claw shape with his hands.

Peter paused a moment, chewing slightly on his tongue at the boy's persistence. He stepped back a little, "Alright."

It wasn't long before Mohinder grabbed him and pulled him back in to the shady house. The boy struggled but with Mohinder's unbelievable strength, he found it impossible to resist. Peter quickly stepped in to the house as the brawl continued and swiftly shut the door behind him. The boy yelled out and Mohinder clasped a hand over his mouth-an opportunity, as the young man took it, to bite his fingers and cause Mohinder to pull away and be forced against a book case. Now he was free, he took the chance to strike at the first person he could. And he attacked the only person he had actually seen. He flung out his right arm, stretching his hand towards Peter and emitted an invisible heat ray of some sort in his direction.

Immediately, Peter's knees hit the floor as he felt an overwhelming heat surround him. It felt like the burning was coming from beneath his skin and his blood was beginning to boil from inside his veins. He shrieked in agony, getting redder and redder as the seconds of torture started to feel like hours.

He was still yelling out from the ground in pain when Matt had used his mind to tell the kid to stop. Mohinder looked up, dazed from the floor. It took minutes before the pain had ceased and Peter couldn't feel the excruciating heat inside him any longer. He wiped the moisture from his face, breathing heavily as he recovered. He sat up as the others in the room stared at him blankly. He turned his attention to his attacker who shrugged carelessly.

"I told you you should've gone," he told him simply.

~*~

"I know that kid from somewhere," muttered Peter as he and Mohinder talked in the corner and Matt carefully controlled the boy's mind, ordering him to sit on the other side of the room and not move.

"He's the boy from the drawing," Mohinder pointed out as he took out the crumpled picture and pointed at the figure who was sat next to Sylar, "They must've been together at some point but got separated."

"But who is he? What's he doing here?"

"I guess we'll have to find out," shrugged Mohinder as he glanced over at the other two on the other side of the room. He and Peter made their way over, serious frowns on both their faces.

"Alright, now we've calmed down a bit," Peter began, pulling up a chair opposite him, "Who are you?"

"Luke," the boy mumbled, glancing down to the floor.

"Okay, Luke," he leant forward, "Where is he?"

"Where's who?"

"You know who I mean. Sylar. Where is he?"

"Dude, I have no idea what you're talking about."

Peter pulled out the drawing of Luke and Sylar at the diner, "This is you," he said simply, "And with you is Sylar. Now we want to know where is he."

Luke stared at the drawing in amazement, "Where did you get that from? Have you been spying on us?"

"Just answer the question. Or my friend here will find the answer for us," he nodded his head towards Matt who sat beside Luke and stared closely at him, ready to dig in to his brain and pull out the information needed.

Luke turned his attention to Matt. He didn't seem a very threatening guy. So he didn't interpret that the man in front of him meant he would be tortured if he didn't answer. "What, are you a mind reader or something?" he smirked at his remark. A week ago that would've sounded crazy to him. In fact, it did sound absurd. But after everything he had seen these past few days he had learnt that not everything was as crazy as it seemed, "Wait. You're a mind reader?" his expression fell, "Get out of my head, man! I don't want you in there!"

"You don't want him in there, you'll answer the question," added Mohinder who crossed his arms and frowned at the young man as if he were some parental figure.

"Okay, I was with him," sighed Luke as he rolled his eyes, "But I don't know where he is now! He ditched me a while back."

"He's telling the truth," Matt cut in, "Sylar left without him."

"I'm just here to find someone I know."

"Sylar's father?" Mohinder questioned curiously.

The boy bit his tongue and glanced down to the floor again, "I knew him when I was a kid," he looked up, concern in his eyes, "That psycho is after him! At first I wanted to help him, you know? But those things he did…he tried to kill me and now he's gonna try and kill his own father. I came here to warn him!"

Peter looked to Matt for confirmation. Matt looked deep in concentration as he searched through the boy's mind. What he found didn't seem too pleasing at all.

"What is it, Matt?"

Matt looked troubled. He heard a distant voice that he couldn't quite make out, echoing inside his mind. It was hazy and far off and Matt had to strain himself to try and hear the words accurately. Luckily, it came closer and closer and it was clear what the boy was thinking behind that troubled expression of his.

_Sylar. He'll be back in a minute. He'll get rid of them, then we can go. He'll be back in a minute. Soon. He'll get rid of them. Then he'll take me with him._

"He's lying," Matt said aloud. He seemed alarmed, "Sylar's coming," he stood up, "He's waiting for him. He didn't come to warn his father," he growled angrily, grabbing the kid by the shirt threateningly, "He's waiting for Sylar to come back and kill us all!"

Peter followed him up and used his arm as a barrier between him and Luke, "Hey, hey! Take it easy!"

"This kid can't help us, Peter. He's useless. He's just waiting for his chance to attack us…"

"Alright. Just relax," he said calmly, "Think about this." Matt gently let go of Luke who seemed to be half afraid and half pleased with himself as he sat back down and a small twisted smile took over his features, "It's okay," Peter added as Matt sat down and caught his breath, "We'll wait for him. I'll talk to him."

"And what if his father was to walk through the door?" Mohinder interjected as he leant against the wall, arms still crossed, "This is supposed to be his house after all. And suppose he's even less civil than Sylar? He'll take no time in murdering us all. Even worse, what if they both were to come back and decide their first activity as father and son was to cut open our heads?"

Peter pushed his hair back and let out a frustrated sigh, "I know the risks, okay Mohinder? Just…let me think about this for a second."

_If only we had that much time, _Mohinder thought to himself doubtfully.

"What do you guys want with him anyway?" came a voice from behind. Luke stared up at them with interest, "You out for revenge or something?"

"No, we need his help," Matt explained briefly.

"Help? What with?"

"You need to stop asking questions and start answering some," Peter interrupted, walking closer to him, "Where's Sylar's father?"

"Beats me," he shrugged, "I got here and the place was abandoned. He told me I could find him here if I ever got in to trouble or needed his help. Guess he went on vacation," he mumbled.

"Well, at least that's something," Mohinder spoke up with relief, "Now all we've got to worry about is the murderous psychopath we have to sit down and have a civilised discussion with."

"You said you'd be supportive," snapped Peter, glaring at Mohinder.

Mohinder looked at him guiltily, "Sorry. Any ideas?"

"I guess we just sit here and wait. Make sure this one doesn't cause any trouble," Matt replied, nodding towards the youth in the chair beside him.

Peter shook his head, "I don't know how long we can do that. Remember we're not the only ones who were given this address. Those people are after Sylar too and this'll be one of the first places they look."

Matt heaved a heavy sigh, "Great."

"It's okay," Peter said as if he were trying to convince himself as well as his companions, "We'll wait for forty minutes. Mohinder-watch the window. If you see anyone coming let us know. Matt, can you watch him?" he asked nodding his head towards Luke who sat with irritation in the chair.

Matt nodded and crossed his arms, aiming a glare towards the young man as Mohinder occupied the window. Peter tensed his muscles, "I'll have a look around the place, see if there's anything we can use."

As Peter left to search the other room, Luke kicked his legs tiredly as if bored with the situation. He looked curiously at Matt and Mohinder as they continued to do as they had been instructed, "So what is this? What did he mean by 'those people'? You're not the only ones looking for Sylar?"

"You don't know?" asked Mohinder as he glanced from the window to the boy behind him.

"They're rounding up people with abilities," explained Matt, "That's why we need Sylar's help. But they're after us. All of us. That's why we've got to hurry."

Luke's eyes widened slightly as sudden realisation hit him. That's why those men had been after Sylar. That's why they had taken him and shoved him in the back of a van. He didn't understand why, or even particularly wanted to. All he wanted to do was get out of there and find the one person who seemed to understand him, "So that's why you're here? You wanna form some kind of alliance with him? I don't know, man. He doesn't seem to like company that much."

"We know," Mohinder snapped from the window, "We _have_ crossed paths once or twice before."

"Can I ask you something else?" Luke added, not intending to wait for an answer, "Why are you taking orders from that guy in the other room?"

Matt furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head slowly, "We're not 'taking orders' from him. We're helping him."

"This is his plan," Mohinder added further, "And he needs our help to go through with it so that's what we're doing."

"I don't know," Luke leant back a bit, tilting on the wooden legs of the chair, "Something told me that he's just used to bossing people around. Giving orders, making everything go his way, getting whatever he wants…Maybe it's something that started from childhood. Whatever he wanted mommy and daddy would get him. I know the type. I've seen 'em. Forms a nasty habit."

"Peter's not like that," muttered Mohinder, turning his attention back to the window.

Matt remained silent, a glare still fixed on the boy.

"Alright. Sorry. Just think it's a bit unfair. He's like the ringleader in this circus act. You two don't seem that enthusiastic to see your old buddy again."

"We're not," Mohinder mumbled, not intending for Luke to hear. But he did anyway.

"There you go. Did he even care that you didn't want to go through with this? I mean, it sounds pretty dangerous. And he was willing to risk your lives?"

"Better then sitting around doing nothing, waiting to get caught," Matt retorted angrily.

"Well, maybe you'll feel differently when Sylar gets here," he smirked to himself smugly.

Mohinder got up from observing outside and stormed over to the teenager who stood up defensively, "I know what you're trying to do but it's not working, alright? I'm here because I want to be. So why don't you just sit down and shut up. Stop trying to disrupt us and let us get on with what we're here to do."

Luke didn't even get a chance to reply before he felt his feet tear from the ground and his back fiercely slam against the wall behind him. The other two followed, feeling their bodies and heads bang against the wall on the opposite side as they groaned in pain at the sudden forced contact. This could only mean one thing.

"What the Hell is this?"

The dark, furious man had let himself in and had seen the intruders arguing in his father's house. His teeth ground together angrily and his fingers twitched, longing to do some harm to these people. These people who had no right to be here, these people who didn't deserve what they had and people who he should have killed a long time ago.

The three weak individuals struggled as they kicked their legs desperately in the air and strained themselves to break free from the powerful force. But it was impossible and they grew weaker as the man they knew as Sylar walked freely in to the middle of the room.

"I asked a question, gentleman. What are you doing here?" he said coolly and slowly as he glanced at each man with a piercing glare. He drifted over to Luke, "I told you to go home. Where's my father?"

Luke breathed deeply, knowing that resisting would make no difference, "I don't know. I hitchhiked here and when I got here he was gone. I swear," he told him truthfully, "Looks like he left in a hurry."

Sylar scowled at this and let out a small grunt, "You should've gone home, Luke."

He felt his brow sweat slightly. He hadn't been a afraid of Sylar until recently. He had learnt that men such as Sylar, who had a mission, were not men you should mess with. He only wanted to join him. Be part of he was doing. If only he didn't resent that so much,

"They want you to help them," he said suddenly, his gaze directing its way towards Matt and Mohinder who stared at Sylar with a tentative look in their eyes, "They came here asking for you. Then they attacked me."

Sylar turned his head to look at the two familiar men, "You want my help? What kind of help would that be?"

They hesitated, unsure of where to begin and how to explain. Peter was the one who had planned this, gone over it in his head and thought of how to explain their situation to Sylar. They glanced at each other nervously. One of them would have to say something.

"Mohinder," Sylar smiled menacingly, "We've been pretty close in the past. Why don't you tell me why you're here?"

Mohinder opened his mouth to speak but no words escaped from his dry lips.

"Five seconds, Mohinder," he approached him closer. So close he could feel the man's breath on his skin. He raised his hand and shaped his fingers in to a claw form as if squeezing ever so gently. Mohinder wheezed, feeling his insides squeeze together painfully and he couldn't control his breathing, "Five..."

"Hey…Stop it! Stop!" demanded Matt as he anxiously looked over at his pained friend.

The other man could only grin at this as he continued his twisted little game, "Four."

Mohinder felt a crushing sensation on his lungs. He could scarcely breathe, let alone explain their presence here. Seeing this, Matt tried his best to intervene and describe why they had so unexpectedly appeared in the home of Sylar's father. But his words were rushed and panicked. And Sylar wasn't satisfied.

"Two."

"Hello, Gabriel," greeted a recognisable voice from behind, much to Sylar's chagrin.

He sighed, gently lowering his arm and releasing Mohinder from such agony, "Of course you had to be part of this," he muttered, slowly turning around to face the new intruder who had a gun aimed directly at him, "Nice to see you again, Peter."

"Let them go," he ordered nodding towards Matt and Mohinder who were still agitatedly hanging on the wall beside him, "Or I'll shoot." He held the gun firmly in his hands. Luckily, he found the weapon in one of the cluttered desk draws in the other room when he had heard a disturbance coming from the front room. So they had finally found Sylar. Or rather, he had found them.

Sylar chuckled under his breath, "Go ahead, Peter. Shoot me." A moment's hesitation and Sylar shook his head and smirked conceitedly. He raised his hand to pull the gun from his grip but Peter shot without any further warning, jumping back slightly, stunned with his actions. Sylar looked at his arm which bled excessively. Once the initial shock had warn off, the wound clearly began to heal and the bullet dropped to the floor as Peter watched all this with wide and anxious eyes. His gaze met Sylar's once again and his lips curved in to a twisted smile, "Nice try." And with a flick of his fingers, Peter flew across the room and felt his back hit the wall beside Luke. The gun slid along the floor and remained discarded by the armchair as Sylar approached Peter with an angry yet smug glint in his eyes, "You're just in time, Peter," he added slyly, "I was just about to kill your friend."

He turned around slowly as Peter felt his heart beat faster. He promised the others that nobody would get hurt. He had planned this out in his head yet it wasn't until now he had realised how unprepared he had been, "No, wait!"

"Have you got something to tell me?" Sylar smirked without facing him.

"Yes. We need your help," Peter glared at the back of his head. Sometimes people like him never changed. But for all their sakes, he needed to listen to what he had to say. He needed to help them.

He chuckled and turned around again, "Why would I help you?"

"Because if you don't, all of our lives are in danger."

Again, more laughter, "All of us? Or just you?" He found it hard to believe his life was in jeopardy. After all this time, after all the things he had overcome, after all the abilities he had discovered and taken for his own…he was surely unstoppable.

Peter breathed deeply, beginning to lose patience, "This concerns all of us. You, me, them," he looked towards Matt and Mohinder on the wall opposite, "Even your new friend here," he added dryly. He talked quickly and had to pause to gather his thoughts, "You have to listen to me. There's people after us. They're locking away people with abilities and if you don't help us stop it, soon enough we're all going to be dead."

His eyes moved quickly, deep in thought, "Dead? How do you know that for sure?"

"I've been receiving information from the future," he went on to explain, "I was told they start executing us."

Surprisingly, the man in front of him looked badly shaken and affected by the news as he looked up at Peter with a genuine concern, "They're rounding up people with abilities….This explains why those people have been trying to chase me down," he said more to himself than anyone else, "In this future you speak of…where am I? Am I still alive?"

Peter glanced down briefly before meeting his eyes, "Yes you are. And that's why I need your help."

"And what help would that be?"

Peter took in a deep breath before continuing. This would take some explaining. He still didn't understand the whole concept himself, but he would have to try and describe the situation as best he could, "The formula my father was working on…I injected myself with it and I got my power back. Thing is, I can only hold on to one other power at a time…" he paused, watching Sylar's expression cautiously. He seemed to be processing the information and accepting Peter's words as the truth. Now for the hard part, "I need you to let me take your powers. Maybe it'll let me keep more than one at a time and give us a fighting chance at beating those bastards. That's all there is. You let me absorb your powers then you'll never have to see us again."

The other man remained still for a few moments, thinking deeply and appearing to consider the idea before shaking his head and grinning scornfully, "That's it? You just take my powers and dance off to save the world once again? You really think that's all it takes?"

"It seems to be doing you some good," Peter muttered, anger in his eyes.

"I'm much stronger than you, Peter. And as I seem to remember you telling me, last time you tried to take my abilities you turned in to a power hungry maniac and nearly killed your own mother."

Two heads from across the room raised in curiosity at this. This was certainly news to Matt and Mohinder. Peter avoided their startled stares and instead insisted that such a thing wouldn't happen this time.

"Do you even know what you're up against?"

"I do, actually."

"Then who? What sick bastard thought up this whole thing?"

"That would be my brother and our very own Noah Bennet," Peter told him with hate dripping in to his voice.

He let out a small, stifled laugh, "This just gets better and better."

Peter bit down hard on his lip, "Are you gonna help us or not?"

"Why should I give you something you don't deserve?" he answered bitterly, "You may think you're helping other people but I know this is for your own selfish gain."

"What are you talking about?"

Sylar walked across the room slowly, "You want a sense of purpose. Sure, you want to help people. And you get a kick out of that. But what you get a bigger kick out of is the feeling you get when you have those powers running through you, making you feel stronger, better. No one else matters as long as you have the strength and sense of importance you long for. You even said yourself, you want your powers so you can fight the enemy; not to help those who need it."

"You don't know me," Peter muttered hatefully, "And what you're saying isn't true. I wouldn't have come here if there was any other way. I want to help everyone, which is why I'm doing this."

He crossed his arms and studied Peter carefully, "Hmm," he pondered for a moment, "Sorry, Peter. I can't help you," he took a few steps back.

"What? Why not?" he demanded, squirming against the force that was holding him down. Even with Mohinder's power, Sylar was too strong for him.

"You told me I was fine in the future. Which means my powers obviously kept me alive. And right now, I have a room full of new powers waiting for me to sink my teeth in to."

His tongue pushed furiously against the inside of his cheek, "So you're just going to kill us? Take our abilities and then walk away?"

He shrugged before tilting his head slightly in pity, "Oh, don't worry, Peter. I wouldn't want your ability anyway. You're even less use to me now then when you were powerless."

He turned and smiled at the two men who had been behind him, "Now, who to start with?"

He paused suddenly, eyes drifting around the room. He swore he could hear something. A voice. He looked up in amusement, "Matt, is that you I hear in my head?

Matt held his breath, stunned. His attempt to control Sylar had obviously failed. Mohinder glanced at him anxiously. This wasn't going to end well. Sylar walked closer to him as Matt continued to try desperately to use his power. He stared at the other man, concentrating hard.

_Stop. Let us go. Help us. Listen to Peter. Listen to him!_

Before he knew it, Sylar had raised his magic fingers and had thrown him across the room effortlessly. He dented the wall and fell to the ground, pain radiating from his shoulder. He saw the dark figure appear above him.

"Controlling people's minds," he said thoughtfully as he stared in to the fearful eyes of Matt Parkman, "That sounds like it could be useful." He raised his right hand and extended his index finger, ready to kill.

"Sylar!" Peter yelled at the top of his lungs, "Listen to me!"

The other man ignored him and continued what he was doing as a thick red line appeared at the side of Matt's head. He screamed in agony.

"Peter!" shouted Mohinder, still struggling to break free, "Do something!"

Peter looked around desperately. He turned his head to see the teenager still beside him, watching the frightening events unfold.

Matt's yells filled the room and he shut his eyes as blood began to drip down his face. He knew this had to be it. But he had never felt so under prepared for death. Being a police officer, he had always been prepared for surprise attacks and the thought of being shot or stabbed. Hell, he had done a lot more dangerous things without doing police work. But now, he simply wasn't ready. And he didn't want to die. Sylar's fingers shook slightly. The red cut had hardly made it past the man's left eye when he felt the torment cease. He opened his eyes to see Sylar roaring in anguish on the floor, sweat dripping from his brow as a transparent ray attacked him from behind. They both looked up to see Peter, who had broken his right arm free, pointing a hand in their direction. His other hand was resting on Luke's shoulder.

Sylar breathed heavily and scowled at him, "So you do have your power back. Pity you won't be alive to use it," he spat furiously as he leapt to his feet and advanced towards Peter.

"You don't want to do this," snarled Peter, glare sharpening with each step Sylar took towards him.

"Don't I?"

He released Peter and he fell to the floor. Ignoring the pain, he tried to get to his feet but Sylar had his foot pressed hard against his chest.

"They can kill you," he added hatefully, "You may be able to regenerate but in the future they kill Claire," he tried to hide the anguish as he mentioned her name, "If they can kill her, they can kill you too."

"Yes, but I won't be foolish enough to let them," Sylar retorted, pushing down harder on his chest with his foot.

"They might have your father!" he said suddenly, "He has an ability, right? They might have already caught him. If you help me, I can help you find him."

Sylar stared at him, gently removing his foot from the other man's torso, "You can find him?"

Peter nodded as he struggled to his feet, "Once I'm strong enough and have the abilities I need to confront them. I'll look for him. I'll find him for you."

He paused a moment, "You're telling the truth…You genuinely believe that once you have more abilities, you'll be next to invincible."

"Something like that. I want to put all this to end. Don't you? Don't you want to stop being followed all the time, having to worry about being captured at every turn you make?"

"Peter?" Mohinder spoke up from behind as he indicated to Matt who had a bloody hand pressed desperately against his face and blood trickled down his hands and through his fingers. Peter glanced worriedly in his direction before looking back at Sylar expectantly.

Sylar sighed, torn from his thoughts as he released Mohinder and Luke and they collapsed to the floor, taking in deep breaths of relief at their sudden freedom. Mohinder rushed over to Matt who gently removed his hand to reveal the deep cut in his forehead.

"Peter!"

Peter's eyes locked with Sylar's, awaiting an answer that didn't seem to come. He tore away his gaze and looked towards Matt. He needed his help. With one last glance at the other man, he made his way over to his friends and inspected Matt's wound. Luckily, it wasn't too deep and he didn't have to risk a trip to the hospital. He just needed to clean the wound and perhaps bandage it, if possible.

All three looked up to see Sylar standing above them, frowning solemnly.

"Alright," he said quietly, "I'll help you. I'll help you put an end to this. But I'm not giving you my powers until I know for sure you can find my father."

Peter hid his frustration at this well. But he nodded, accepting the terms, "Thank you."

**TBC.**


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N: First of all HUGE thank you to everyone who is reading and commenting! I have gotten some lovely reviews but I couldn't reply because they were commenting as guests-so, to those people and everyone else who is supporting this story I really appreciate it!! I am really enjoying writing this and it means a lot that other people are reading and enjoying it as much as I am. So, thank you!! Please continue to read and review! We are coming towards the end of this journey now and, as most of us know, the outcome of Peter taking Sylar's powers has now been explored in the show. I don't know if things will go the same way for this story but I do have my own ideas for the ending. Also, my exams are coming up next week so please excuse any delay in updating! Hope you enjoy!**_

_**-Jemma **_

**Chapter 5**

**Three years in to the future, 5 days after visiting the past.**

His eyes fluttered open and he realised he wasn't in his cell anymore. Nor was he in the lab acting as the rat for their experiments. No, this time he was in a bed. He squinted slightly, white splodges dancing in front of his eyes. His head rested on something soft. A pillow? He looked around. It looked like he was in a hospital room. He sat up with difficulty, feeling as though he had just been hit by a ton of bricks or something similar. Maybe someone had found him, rescued him and brought him here?

"Try not to move, Mr. Petrelli. You need to rest. You're about to have surgery after all," a voice said cynically. Danko. He was sat by the bed behind a table of equipment and tools. Peter looked at him groggily from the corner of his eyes.

"You think you're really going to find something in there?" he asked bitterly.

"Well, there's no harm in trying, is there?"

That's right. The only harm there would be was that of Peter if any mistakes were to occur. And, of course, the ominous warning he had received telling him that once he and his brain were found to be absolutely useless to their research, they would dispose of him just like a failed science experiment. That's all he was to them. An experiment. And to think, he wasn't the first person they had locked up and experimented on only to end their lives shortly afterwards because they were of no help to them. They had probably done this hundreds of times. Hundreds! And he asked himself how his brother could ever have allowed this to happen.

"I thought I would take the time to go through the surgery with you," Danko grinned arrogantly as he picked up a steel bladed scalpel, "This will be used to make an incision in your scalp. After we remove part of the bone in your skull, this will be used," he picked up another knife with a sharp and shiny blade as he held it up to the younger man's view, "to help cut and pull back the membrane covering your brain." Peter glared at him, unimpressed as Danko continued his petty attempt to torment him with the graphic details of the surgery, "Once the brain is exposed, we'll use this little thing," he picked up part of a tiny looking microscope, "to have a good thorough search around. And well, you know. You were a nurse after all. I'm sure you have some knowledge in this field."

"What exactly do you expect to find anyway?" Peter growled angrily as he watched the other man place the microscope back down and smile at him carelessly.

"Well, we're not sure exactly," he admitted, getting to his feet, "But luckily we have an expert in the building. As of a few days ago."

Peter stared at him warily, "Wait, you mean Sylar?" he was too exhausted to show his outrage. If he had any ounce of strength left, he would've jumped out of the bed by now and thrown the man furiously across the room, "You want him in there with us? How are you going to manage that?"

Didn't these people realise the danger? Peter didn't much like the thought of his brain exposed in a room where Sylar could kick start a fight or break free and destroy something crucial at any moment. Somehow he got the feeling Sylar wasn't going to just stand there sensibly and do as the nice people said.

"He can understand how these powers work. With him there, he'll be able to look in to your brain-_without_ killing you-then maybe we'll be able to find a way to turn them off. Then you'll be free to go," he grinned smugly.

"That's what this is about? You want to get rid of people's abilities?" Peter scoffed, attempting to sit up again before sliding back down in pain.

"It's a dangerous world out there, Peter. Without these abilities perhaps it will be a little less dangerous."

"Then what? You're just going to kidnap people from all over the world, get rid of their abilities and then let them go as if nothing ever happened?" he said the next part slowly and roughly, "You're_ insane_."

He pursed his lips together with irritation then opened his mouth to retort when another, more familiar voice came from outside.

"Hey! I didn't authorise this surgery!" Of course, it was the Hero. Nathan. Looking out for his baby brother in the worst of situations. Only, it was because of him he was here in the first place. Peter looked at him angrily. Nathan rushed towards them and glared at Danko after his eyes had dropped to see the surgical instruments lying on a small table beside him.

"Senator," Danko began tiredly, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave. We're trying to prep the patient for surgery."

"Peter is not a patient. I didn't give you permission to cut in to his brain," Nathan replied sharply with a small, concerned glance towards Peter.

"Is this favouritism, Mr. Petrelli? No one gets a free pass anymore. Not your daughter, not your brother, not anybody." Peter noted a pained look in his brother's eye at the mention of her. He glanced down. Perhaps he really was hurt over her death. Perhaps he didn't want to make the same mistake with his little brother. He probably should've thought about that before he began this whole ridiculous operation . So many lives could have been spared, so many years-unwasted, "Not forgetting our little deal, are you, Senator?"

Peter's eyes raised curiously. Nathan's appeared to be burning a whole in the man opposite him. He grit his teeth together before sighing with frustration, "I want to be in there with him."

"I'm afraid family aren't allowed in the operating theatre. Senator or not."

"Danko-"

"Senator.." his tone was strict and threatening. Nathan pinched the skin in between his eyes.

"At least give me a minute with him; before he goes in."

With a slight grunt and a nod, Danko hesitantly left the room, leaving the two brothers alone to talk.

Nathan and Peter looked at each other soulfully, neither one able to mutter a single word. So they were silent for a few moments, and Peter broke away his gaze to look at his palms resting on his lap.

"You weren't supposed to be at the house," muttered Nathan suddenly, running a hand through his greasy hair in agitation.

"What?"

"Three years, Pete. It's been three years and then you suddenly decide to show up? You weren't supposed to be there. You weren't supposed to get caught."

"So this is my fault?" Peter snapped, wrinkling his nose with disdain, "You don't think that part of this might, on any level, be due to _your_ actions."

"I know, okay? I know this is my fault," he fell in to the chair beside him, "But this…you…you're not supposed to be here."

"A lot of people shouldn't have been here," mumbled Peter, looking away, "And now they're gone."

Nathan felt his head drop in to his itching hands, "I know," and they were silent again for a moment longer.

Peter swallowed, feeling the apprehension catch up to him. He stole a quick meaningful glance at his brother. He didn't want his last conversation with him to be an argument. They had had so many. It didn't matter how much he hated him at the moment-this was not how he wanted things to end between them. And he needed someone to be there with him. Someone who didn't relish the thought of cutting open his brain, someone who at least pretended to care for him and not see him as a threat to the country or a mere science experiment. He needed reassurance. He needed his older brother.

"Nathan," he swallowed again, choking back tears that had been held back for so long and hidden away from the world as if crying was something to be ashamed of-a weakness and nothing more, "I'm afraid."

Nathan lifted his head from his hands slowly and stared at his younger sibling, a deep concern shining in his eyes, "I know."

Peter looked around him, distraught, "Nothing's changed. I couldn't stop this. I…I couldn't save them."

"You couldn't save them all, Pete. Nor could I."

He inhaled deeply, "This is it, isn't it? How it ends. There's no way to bring them back. There's no way to stop all of this from happening."

Nathan glanced down sadly, sighing, "If there was anything I could do…"

Peter nodded, "I know," he shivered at his thoughts. What was to become of him now? Was he to share the fate of his friends? Or was there some chance that they might find a way to undo these powers? Then instead of death, Peter would live his unextraordinary life surrounded by unextraordinary people in a unextraordinary world where the people he loved and knew were dead. He thought it too late to change things now. Nothing was different. Those people were still dead and Danko was still hunting. He was still going to look inside Peter's head and diminish what made him who he was, if he could. And if not, well, he had already gone over that scenario several times in his head.

"I'm sorry," Nathan told him sincerely, "I know I've said it before but…I never meant for this to happen. I didn't want this. And I'm not the monster you think I am."

Even though Nathan had spelled the same words out to him before, this time seemed different. His words seemed more desperate. Genuine. And his expression matched his tone.

"It seemed like that was what you were," Peter replied sorely, "Ever since you started this. But deep down, I knew you were still you. You know, the same guy that helped me with my homework or drove me to school or helped me revise for my Practice Exams…the same guy who saved my life, or helped me save the world."

Nathan frowned and tore away his gaze as his eyes fixed to the floor tiles below him, "I'm sorry, Pete," he said again, getting to his feet and leaning over to kiss him gently on his mess of dark hair, "I really am."

The younger man sighed and chewed on his lip before replying, "Yeah. Me too."

"Time's up. I'm afraid you're going to have to wait outside, Senator," Danko's unwelcome voice chimed in. Nathan shot him an angry glare before walking towards the exit. He stopped outside the room and looked uneasily through the big glass window as Peter was made to lie back and an injection was made in to his left arm. He stared back at Nathan drowsily as his eyes became too heavy to keep open. Nathan watched him helplessly as his brother slowly escaped in to a deep sleep. Somewhere better then he really was, no doubt. Peter watched the familiar figure behind the glass fade to black. And then nothing else could be seen. His time was up.

~*~

**Present Day**

The steam from the shower caused little cold droplets to trickle down the tiles on the wall. The water was nice and hot-it was a pleasant relief to finally be able to wash the chaos away after these tiresome few days. They had spent the last few hours questioning each other's alliances and discussing how they were going to execute the new plan they had thought up. The Luke kid had pleaded to come and, after much disagreement, they had given in and decided to let him tag along. He seemed to find a particular interest in the whole thing. The plan was to find the headquarters of the operation, wherever that was, and once they had found that and confirmed that Sylar's father was being held inside, Sylar would let Peter take his powers in exchange for rescuing his father. Once he had those powers, well, the rest was unspoken. Peter planned to improvise. Perhaps he would confront Nathan first. Or Bennet. Then he would concentrate on freeing the rest of the prisoners. One way or another this monstrosity was going to end.

Peter grabbed a towel from the side and wrapped it around his waist as the water from his wet hair dripped down on to his skin. They had decided to stay the night as their talking and arguments had raged on in to the late afternoon. It was a great opportunity to have a good wash and night's sleep. Not to mention the whole fridge full of food in the kitchen that didn't have "Cheap Diner Food" written all over it. He had also spotted some money in the study which he had quickly pocketed for future use. He was pretty sure he needed it more than the previous owner and that he wouldn't miss a few bucks anyway. Pushing back his dripping brown hair to avoid the strands from covering his eyes, he raised his eyes and froze, startled. He could've sworn he saw a face in the mirror. A white haired man, pale face, older. He had looked oddly familiar. But it was his imagination playing tricks on him. Peter shook his head and swiped at his damp eyes. No one was there and it was no one he knew. He grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head.

Not long later, he joined the others and saw Sylar throw some blankets and pillows on to the floor, "I found these in the closet. Remember, this is no slumber party," he told them dryly, "First thing in the morning, we're out of here."

The others were quiet and silently agreed. With a small grunt, Sylar left to go to the bedroom. Peter doubted he was going to sleep. It was more likely he would nose around the place first. Perhaps try and piece together some information about this estranged father of his. He walked past Mohinder who had already made up a bed for himself on the sofa. Grabbing a blanket and draping it over him, he stared up towards the ceiling and lay back tiredly, "All we have to do now is get out the box of chocolates and sappy romance films."

To his surprise, Peter wasn't angry at his comment. He simply let out a small laugh as he set out a space for him to sleep on the floor. He looked over at Matt nearby who's head had a clean dressing on it-something they had conveniently found in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. He sat by the window with the gun clutched tightly in his hands.

"Hey, how's your head?" Peter asked him, indicating to the bandage and the sore wound that lay beneath it.

Matt nodded to him and smiled briefly, "It's fine. Thanks."

"You should really get some sleep. Let me keep watch first."

"That's okay, I don't feel like sleeping anyway."

Peter frowned but didn't try to convince him any longer. He lay his head down on the pillow behind him, "Just tell me if you change your mind. And wake me up if your head starts to bother you."

"I will. Thanks."

They heard a small scornful laugh come from the armchair in the corner, "I can't believe I have to spend the night in here with you people."

Peter rolled his eyes and turned on to his side to face the boy who had himself curled up on the chair opposite, "You wanted to tag along. Where else are you going to sleep?"

Luke didn't bother replying. Instead, he moved on to a new subject, "So, I get what his power is," he nodded to Matt who ignored him and continued to look outside in to the dark, "And I'm guessing he has super strength or something like that," he looked towards Mohinder who returned the look suspiciously, "What are you?" he asked Peter with intrigue.

Peter sighed, lying on to his back again, "I…I'm not really anything. I just…borrow other people's abilities. An empath, I think it's called."

"So, you just grab on to other people and take their powers?"

"Kinda but recently I've only been able to keep a couple at a time."

"Which is why you want Sylar."

Peter stopped himself, "Maybe you should go to sleep now."

"Not tired."

"Well, I am."

"Peter," Mohinder spoke up from the sofa, "Do you still _have _your other abilities?"

Peter exhaled, "No, Mohinder. They're gone."

"Are you sure?"

"Yep. Went when I took the kid's power," he paused and looked towards Luke again.

"It's microwave emission," he told him, "In case you were wondering. It's pretty cool, if not deadly. You can melt stuff with it, boil stuff…"

"I gathered," Peter muttered wryly. He never wanted this ability. It wouldn't help him save his friends. Maybe help boil a person's blood from the inside or even melt their skin from the outside. But it wouldn't help unless he planned to viciously murder people. He wasn't kidding when he said it was deadly. Perhaps it was too deadly. He could always change his power in the morning, if he wanted. At least he had that option.

"Do you think you'll be able to find Sylar's father?" Luke asked seriously, readjusting his position in the armchair.

Peter followed the question with a hopeful sigh, "Let's worry about that tomorrow." His main concern at the moment was to keep Sylar on their side. And to do that he would need to keep his promise. To find his father, wherever he was. Peter planned to try and take Matt's future-seeing ability, then the both of them could try and find some answers. He sunk in to his blankets as the conversation died down and silence filled the dark room. It wasn't long until he drifted off in to dreams of happier times. Dreams of his family before the insanity settled in to their lives. Back when they appeared to be a normal family living in a normal world. But most importantly, back when he could trust the people he loved.

Never again.

~*~

It didn't feel like much later when he awoke to a sniffling sound coming from behind him. He sat up and swiped at his eyes, yawning. The memories of those happy times drifted away as quickly as the dream itself. He turned to see Matt still sitting at the window. He had his head held in his hands and several scraps of paper were scattered untidily around him. Peter had to come closer to be sure, but Matt was crying to himself, thinking his quiet sobs couldn't be heard. Peter frowned and placed a hand on his shoulder. Matt jumped, surprised. Instead of being relieved to see the intruder had only been Peter, he looked away shamefully and apologised.

Peter shook his head and grabbed a chair from the side to sit opposite him, "It's okay, Matt. I understand."

"No, I..I should've been keeping watch. What if they had come? I wouldn't have been able to warn you."

Another frown followed. His eyes dropped to the scraps of paper on the floor. He picked up an interesting one: a man in a suit sitting at a desk, dark circles around his eyes and a phone pressed to his ear. Undoubtedly, this man was Nathan.

"I was trying to figure out where it was," sniffed Matt, "Their base. But as I kept drawing I kept hoping she would be there. That maybe somehow she was alive," his eyes glanced to the floor at the rest of the disappointing sketches, "It was stupid, I know."

"No," Peter shook his head again, his eyes focusing on Matt's with a deep concern, "Look, you should get some sleep. I'll take over."

Matt forced a sad smile, "Thanks," he got up. Peter stood with him and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder again,

"It's not stupid," he told him, "You can come to me if you need to talk, man."

Matt nodded a thank you and made his way towards the others to set up a place for him to sleep. Peter watched him go. He was worried about his friend. It was hard loosing somebody you loved, he knew that. And with everything else that was happening at the moment it was going to be so much harder to swallow. He only wished he could've saved her too. But there were people out there that could still make it. They were still alive, they still had a chance.

Before sitting at the window and keeping watch, Peter bent down to collect the drawings Matt had drawn. He sat down and began to flick through them. He saw pictures of Nathan and Bennet but none that indicated where they were. Peter cursed under his breath. Another dead end. But then he paused in disbelief as he turned to the next picture. The man he saw in the mirror. The one with the white hair and familiar leering expression. He stared at it for a minute. Who was he? Was he part of this too?

He glanced over at Matt who had already curled up to sleep beside the others and then looked momentarily outside before clutching the gun beside him. Everything seemed peaceful for now. He looked down and sighed before taking in one more deep breath and having his eyes become coated with a bright blanket of white. Discreetly, he had taken Matt's power before he went off to sleep. He needed to know who this other man was. He needed to know where Nathan and Bennet were. He needed to know where Sylar's dad was! He needed to know as soon as possible before Sylar began to question their loyalty. The visions began to play out in front of him.

Two men shaking hands: Nathan and this new person. Peter began to sketch out the scene automatically, capturing the moment as best he could. They stood in a big room. An office? Piles of paper mounted up on the desk. But Peter couldn't see close enough to catch any clear details or words.

A new image. This time the man was at a board with various photographs on. The pictures were small but Peter could see his own image stuck on the second row down, along side Mohinder and Matt. Sylar's photograph was stuck high above them on the first row. Priority One, it said, Highly Dangerous. The man's eyes appeared to be staring directly at Peter, a cold glare settling in to him. Peter needed to know his name. He needed to know where he was, immediately. He glanced down the drawing, looking at the man's torso-he had a badge stuck to him. ID. Perfect! He had to strain his eyes to see but after a few moments of staring he could finally tell what the badge read.

"Danko. His name is Danko!"

"Peter?"

Peter jumped up in surprise as he spun around to see Mohinder staring at him with a curious and confused look. Now he knew how Matt had felt. It wasn't a pleasant thing to be snuck up on in the dark while trying to study these images.

"Mohinder, I was just…"

"You were trying to draw the future."

"Uh, yeah. I was just trying to figure out something," he trailed off, studying Mohinder closely. He was expecting a long drawn out speech about how irresponsible it was for him to be doing such a thing when they were in such a dangerous situation, not to mention how ludicrous this whole thing was and the many pessimistic comments that usually followed. But instead, he sat in front of him glancing down at the drawings,

"What have you found?"

After momentarily staring at the other man, surprised by his reaction, Peter looked back down at the drawings and began to tell his companion about his findings and about this mysterious Danko person.

"So he's in charge of all of this too?"

"I think so. I don't think Nathan and Bennet could've done this alone. There's just something about this guy that…isn't quite right. I don't know how to explain it. He just gives me this weird feeling. I think he's dangerous."

"You know, it's okay to be scared, Peter," assured Mohinder. Peter shook his head and stood up.

"I'm not scared, it's just…" he looked down at Mohinder who had both his eyebrows raised and he sighed, "Okay, I am a little. I just think this guy's not one to be messed with. I have this feeling something bad's going to happen and it's going to be because of him."

"You're not having second thoughts are you?"

"No. Of course not," insisted Peter. He breathed deeply and leant against the wall, "I just need my powers back."

"So you've said." smiled Mohinder, "I don't think you should give up."

"You don't?"

"We've come this far, haven't we? We've spent the night with Sylar in the next room. I thought that would be risky enough. I'm surprised any of us slept!"

"Did somebody say my name?"

Sylar stared at Mohinder and Peter who remained quiet. He glanced at Luke and Matt who slept soundly,

"You should get ready. I want to be leaving soon."

"Now?" Peter glanced at his watch. Four-thirty AM, "Don't you think it's a little early?"

"I thought you wanted to get a move on, Peter. To save everyone? Get revenge? And I would like to find my father as soon as possible. Do you have any objections to that?"

Peter bit down hard on his lip and avoided his intimidating glare, "No. I don't."

"Well then," he stared at the two from the corner of his eyes, "Anyone for breakfast?"

~*~

"Hold still."

"You're hurting me."

"Yeah, it'll do that. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt so much if you just stayed _still_," Peter warned Matt as he put a fresh bandage on to the dry wound.

"I'm not one of your patients, Peter," Matt muttered as Peter finished up with the bandage.

"Well, I'd be lucky to have you," Peter added teasingly, patting Matt on the shoulder, "You're good to go."

Luke glared from the kitchen as he munched on his cereal, "You gotta be kidding me," he muttered, turning his attention to Sylar as he entered the room, "It's not too late to ditch them. We can find your dad ourselves."

"Shut up, Luke," growled Sylar as he wandered in to the main room towards the others, "Are you done?"

They heard the car boot shut from outside and Mohinder opened the front door, nodding towards his friends, "I've got the car ready. Stocked it up with food and medical supplies too."

"Great," Sylar replied dryly, "Now there's just the small matter of where we're actually going," he added, turning his attention to Peter who was, in fact, clueless.

Luckily, Mohinder appeared to have an idea, "About that," he started, "All other methods to finding this place, wherever it is, has failed. I feel that in order for us to find out where their base is…" he paused, unsure whether he should continue, "one of us needs to get caught."

Matt immediately didn't take to the idea, "What? Are you crazy? You wanna bring those people straight on to our doorstep?"

"Think about it," Mohinder continued logically, "All it takes is one of us. They'll capture him and take him to their base to be questioned. All we have to do is follow them while whoever it is keeps quiet until we rescue him."

"Follow them?" Peter repeated doubtfully, "Even if we can do that, who's gonna volunteer for something like that?"

A painful silence followed. It seemed no one wanted to volunteer for the mission. Not even Mohinder, the brains behind the idea.

"Luke," Sylar suddenly said, hardly looking up.

The boy nearly choked on his cereal, "Me? Nu-uh. No way."

"You wanted to help," Sylar told him, "Here's your chance."

"I never said I wanted to help," he argued, "I just wanted to come with you."

"If you want to come with me then you'll do this for me. Or I can just get rid of you right now," he replied darkly as blue static surged to his finger tips.

Luke rubbed at his pink eyes agitatedly, "So, what, I just sit there? Pumped full of drugs, waiting for you guys to save me? That sounds stupid to me, man, I got to admit."

Stepping forward, Mohinder added, "It won't be for long. But it's important for you to keep quiet. They might not know you've been with us but they know you've had contact with Sylar. Under no circumstances are you to tell them anything we've discussed, alright?"

"I haven't agreed to this yet," he added bitterly, getting to his feet.

"I think you already have," Sylar smirked.

"Wait, maybe this is a bad idea," admitted Peter, "Maybe I should do it."

"It's okay, Peter," smirked Sylar, "Luke will do it. He wanted to be part of this after all," his eyes laughed as he glanced at Luke who looked less than amused.

"I'll move the cars," Mohinder offered with enthusiasm. With them hidden and out of the way it would be easier to follow them under the radar. Matt and Peter exchanged unsure glances.

"Peter can ride with me," added Sylar, a twisted smile on his lips, "It'll give us a chance to _catch up_."

As much as Peter hated the idea, he also thought it necessary. That way he could be certain that he wouldn't run off or break their little deal. He nodded, "Fine."

"So we just wait?" Luke asked, more than a hint of negativity in his voice.

"We wait," sighed Peter.

~*~

**Three hours later.**

"Target in sight."

"You got a clear aim?"

"Yep."

"Take him down."

Luke trudged along the path, a deep frown set across his face. This was the sixth time he had pretended to take out the trash and he was getting pretty tired of it. He gripped the black bin bag in his hands and made his way towards the trash can.

"Okay," he muttered tediously, "I'm taking out the trash. I'm lifting up the lid. Still nothing? Alright then," he sighed, gritting his teeth together knowing the others were inside watching intently, "I'm putting the trash in the-"

He looked down, feeling a familiar sting in his right shoulder. They were here. His knees met the hard floor below him while the bag flung from his hands. Nobody said anything about being shot with a dart again. His body shook vigorously on the floor and, as he gradually lost consciousness, his last thoughts were of how much complaining he was going to do as soon as he got rescued. _If_ he got rescued.

The others had already swiftly evacuated the house and escaped to the cars hidden in the woods behind. They watched through the trees as Luke was hauled away and thrown in to the back of a black van. It wasn't long before the order was given to search the house.

"I swear, Matt, you better have cleaned up all that blood," Mohinder muttered from the driver's seat while he nervously watched them file in to the house.

"I scrubbed at the floor for hours, Mohinder. It's spotless. And next time I'll try not to get injured and bleed everywhere."

Mohinder ignored the comment and gripped the steering wheel as his heart began to beat a little faster, "I wish they'd hurry up."

Meanwhile, not far away, Peter was having similar worries, "Maybe we should all ride in the same car," he suggested, watching the search unfold from the passenger seat.

"We might need to split up," Sylar replied with one hand on the steering wheel, "If _they_ go down, they'd take _us_ with them…"

Peter bit down on his lip as he watched them bundle Luke in to the back of the van.

"You worried about the kid?" Sylar asked, glancing over at him. Peter didn't respond, "Don't be. Little brat, follows me around like a lost puppy. Like I'm his older brother or something."

"If you thought that then why'd you let him tag along with you all this time?" Peter looked over at him. Sylar turned away and looked back towards the house. He didn't reply. He waited.

"They're leaving," he mumbled, observing the men in uniforms file towards the van and begin to drive off as he slowly reached for the ignition but waiting until the last possible second to start the engine. He noticed the navy blue car with Matt and Mohinder sat in the front pull out ahead of them and drive off way too soon, "Idiots." He started the engine and followed cautiously.

As they drove along, a safe distance away from the other vehicles, Sylar glanced from the road to his old empathic friend, "You better keep your hands off me," he warned but with a small hint of humour, "I mean it. If you power-rape me while I'm driving I'll have you killed before you'll even get to use them."

Sweeping a hand through his hair, Peter rolled his eyes, "Fine. I won't try anything."

Sylar kept an eye on the road and on the van that drove far ahead, "So why does your brother want to kill us? That's rather hypocritical, don't you think?"

Another sigh as Peter propped his arm up against the passenger seat window and leant his head against his fist, "I don't know. I haven't spoken to him since I was caught," he replied bitterly at the memory.

"It's a shame," Sylar added, "If I had gotten a chance before maybe I could have saved us all this… inconvenience." Peter eyed him cautiously, "Flying," he continued, "That could save me a lot of time."

Peter bit down hard on his tongue and looked out of the window. The thought of Sylar killing his brother angered him. Many times Peter had imagined doing it himself. Nathan deserved what was coming to him. But then again, he still felt lost without him. He didn't want him to die, no matter what evil and selfish things he had done. As usual, the very presence of the man beside him caused him to feel a certain hatred towards him. He needed him but it didn't mean he had to like it.

"You're afraid of me," Sylar said in a low voice as Peter twitched slightly.

"I'm not afraid of you," he made clear, "Not anymore."

He raised an eyebrow, "You're a little afraid of me."

Peter fidgeted a little bit, scratching behind his ear before leaning back again and facing the other man, "I've seen a different side to you," he finally said after what seemed like several minutes, "You saved me."

"I thought you were my brother back then. I thought I was different. But I'm not like you, Peter. I'm not like any of your twisted little family. I'm sorry I saved your pathetic life."

"You're not as evil as you'd like to be," muttered Peter

"Is that so?" scorned Sylar, uninterested in the younger man's opinion.

"I think things would've been different if you had been my brother. Maybe then you wouldn't be so hesitant to do the right thing."

"Because the Petrelli's are a band of Heroes, right?" Sylar restrained his laugher, "Yeah, the crazy manipulative parents who tricked me in to thinking I was their son and, not forgetting, who tried to kill each other and even sent their children to do it for them," he added bitterly, "The narcissistic flyboy senator who's in charge of this whole Goddamn operation to wipe out his own kind and, last but not least, the youngest-the bipolar man-child who's Hell bent on revenge and is hanging on to a ridiculous idea that he can save the world _again. _You're right, Peter. I would've been a much better person belonging to your insane littlefamily. God knows what you people did on 'Family Fun Night'."

Peter was quiet as he watched Sylar turn away and concentrate on the road again. He looked out towards the window and drifted off in to his own thoughts. Perhaps Sylar was right. His family were made up of bad people, himself included. He thought for so long his family had been perfect, or at least seemed to be. It was only recently that things appeared to be falling apart. He resented them all, he knew that. They had all done bad things but he had never seen them as bad people. Well, Nathan was the exception for that one. Peter knew what he really was now. All his life he had looked up to him, loved him and-like his mother had so correctly remarked-_hero-worshipped_ him. Ludicrous as it was now, it was the truth. He had been wrong about him from the start. He did resent them. But he loved them all too. He couldn't help it, it was who he was and he couldn't change it. No matter who they were, they were a part of him and he was a part of them too.

He let the silence take over from then on and they both sat quietly, following the van ahead of them until Peter finally asked the question that had played on his mind since the start of their journey here.

"What about you? Your family. You said you want to find your real father. What do you hope to find?"

Sylar gave a little sideways smile at the question, debating whether he should bother answering or not. After a few moments, he loosened a little, "You're…special," he began without looking away from the road, "What if you had found out your whole life was a lie? Your parents, your home, all of it. Wouldn't you want to know where you came from? Where these abilities came from?" he shook his head at Peter's silence, "I'm on a mission-so are you. Let's just keep this little alliance as short as possible and get this over with."

"Alright," Peter replied with a small nod before resting his head on his propped up arm again and watching the road in front of him, "I'm with you there."

"You're driving too close, Mohinder."

"I don't think I can take another hour of this," Mohinder muttered under his breath.

"Do you _want_ to get caught?"

"I don't want to lose the van, Matt."

"Maybe I should drive," suggested Matt with concern.

"It's a little too late for that, don't you think? I'm not stopping now."

Matt accepted his defeat and sat back in the leather chair with a frown, "How much farther do you think this place is?"

"Hopefully not far," Mohinder answered, making sure to keep both hands steadily on the wheel, "I just can't wait for all of this to be over once and for all. So we can get back to our normal lives and live without all of this fear and secrecy. It's unbearable."

Matt sunk slowly in to the seat and chewed on his bottom lip, "I'm not even sure if I want to go back to that life anymore. Not without Daphne. Everything now just seems so…pointless."

Mohinder shot him a guilt-filled glance, "I'm sorry, Matt. I just meant-"

"I know. It's not your fault what happened to her," he swallowed, angry thoughts entering his mind, "It's _their's. _Nathan Petrelli, Noah Bennet and this _Danko_. Without them we could still be living our lives together, maybe have a family…like the one I saw in my vision," he paused, thoughts drifting back to the image of him, Daphne, Molly and their own little baby. Of course it was too good to be true. But he had been so close, "I don't understand how the future can be changed so easily."

"The future's not written in stone, Matt. We make our own choices. We can change things for the better. Maybe there is such thing as destiny, but this definitely isn't ours."

"I think I've had enough of thinking about the future," he sighed, aimlessly scratching at the small bandage on his forehead.

"Haven't we all," Mohinder muttered more to himself than his companion. He eyed the black van cautiously, willing for it to drive faster so they could arrive at the headquarters sooner rather than later. Mohinder still wasn't entirely keen on driving towards the people they were supposed to be running from but if it contributed to their liberation then he was willing to help. As he concentrated on the van in front, he saw a man in the passenger seat glance in the mirror and lock eyes with him.

Mohinder's throat ran dry.

Matt sensed something was wrong, "Mohinder?"

Mohinder tried to find the right words as the van in front of them appeared to slow down. He wasn't sure what to do next so he slammed his foot down on the accelerator, driving as fast as he could.

"Mohinder, what are you doing?" Matt almost yelled.

"They've seen us, Matt," his heart raced, "We have to get out of here!"

His muscles tightened and he watched as Mohinder overtook the black van and a high speed chase ensued, "I told you you were driving too close!"

Mohinder beeped the horn as he swerved, attempting to dodge the many cars in front, "Okay, you were right! But that's not going to help us now!"

"Just try not to get the cops on our tail as well!"

Not far behind, Peter sat up, watching the commotion unfold, "What are they doing?"

Sylar shook his head and cursed under his breath, "Idiots exposed themselves. They're being chased."

"What do we do?" Peter questioned, a slight panic in his tone.

"Nothing," Sylar replied simply.

Peter wasn't impressed by his answer, "We have to help them."

"No, we don't. They don't know we've been following them, it's best we stay out of their way."

"You're going to have to speed up to keep up with them."

He changed gear and increased in speed, "If your friends get us caught-"

"Yeah, I know," Peter muttered, "Just don't lose 'em. We can't lose sight of that van."

The navy blue car rocketed along the road, the van following close behind. It didn't look good. Peter held on to the door as he peered out the window, making sure not to be seen by the men in front. He tried to think of something he could do but nothing would come to mind.

"You're going too slow. They're going to get away."

"If I go any faster they'll see us," Sylar growled through grit teeth.

"If they get away then we won't be able to find your father," reminded Peter, an angry scowl upon his face.

Sylar bit his tongue and pushed harder on the pedal. They watched as the leading blue car swerved and skidded. The men in the van weren't giving up. They approached a red light, which the first two vehicles passed easily. Sylar was forced to slam the breaks on as a truck managed to turn and stop right in front of them. He swore to himself and nursed his aching neck. Peter jumped out of the car and watched as the van pursuing his friends began to fade off in to the distance.

He banged his fist on the car roof which prompted Sylar to roll his eyes and tell him to get back in.

"And do what?" Peter retorted, "We lost them! How are we going to find the base now?"

"Well, you certainly don't cope well under pressure," remarked Sylar impertinently, "Just get back in."

Peter sat back in the passenger seat, slamming the door beside him, "What do we do now?" he asked, voice less persistent this time.

"Start by not making a show of yourself. I thought we were supposed to be in hiding."

Peter sighed, "This just wasn't how things were supposed to go." A glare followed as Sylar chuckled to himself. Peter didn't find this as amusing, "What?" he barked roughly.

"It's just that you still think you're in control of everything," he laughed harder as Peter's glare sharpened, "You have no idea what you're doing."

"I know what I'm doing," hissed Peter, shifting in his seat.

"Of course. Then tell me, Peter. What do we do now?"

Peter sank back in his seat as his mind thought what to do. He couldn't answer because he simply didn't know. The silence felt as painful as the bruises on his back and he waited for Sylar's typical derisive comment to follow. But convenience was just around the corner. Before the light changed, another black van emerged from the other side of the road and drove right past them. They exchanged glances and the light turned green.

"Drive."

**TBC**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **Everyone, thanks SO much again for all your lovely and encouraging reviews. I really really do appreciate it! I can't reply to you all though, including some who have asked me questions, because the email that notified me didn't supply me with a reply link so I can only assume you are reviewing as a guest. I'll tell you here, though, I am extremely grateful and yes, I am still writing this and I do plan to update. It's just taking me a rather long time. I've finished my exams now and have come back from holiday so I'm hoping to finish this rather soon! We're almost there. I hope you will all enjoy these future chapters. Thanks so much again for reading, reviewing, subscribing etc! It really does encourage me to write/finish this!

**Chapter Six**

**Three Years in to the Future, 5 days after visiting the past.**

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

The heart monitor beside him beeped reassuringly as he slowly awoke from his hazy sleep, limbs heavy and eyelids almost glued shut to his cheeks. They felt like stone as he fought to open them. But even in his semi comatose state he could hear the commotion from outside of his room and could sense that something was wrong. The echo of a blaring alarm pierced his ears, accompanied by a helpless cry every now and then. He struggled to move but felt paralysed, as if all the strength had finally left him. After a few moments his eyes lazily opened. The first thing he saw was the ceiling tiles above, blurry and out of focus. The second thing he saw was the mysterious blood stain on the window beside him. His thoughts were too tangled to make sense of it-the confusion and disorientation dominating his mind and senses. It was then he could feel the absence of the comfortable mattress and in its place was a hard surface. He gently turned his head to see the monitor beeping typically beside him, except it was on it's side on the floor. He knew then that he was not in the surgery room and he was not in his bed. Something had happened.

He felt booming footsteps over the loud blast of the alarm and a blurry face appeared above him with a red mark across the cheek, curls dangling as he looked down and began to pull him up roughly. Peter stumbled and the other person caught him, holding him as he rested half way between the floor and half way upright.

"Peter," he said, slapping him gently, "Peter, wake up. It's me. We have to get you out of here."

He pulled him up again, placing Peter's arm over his shoulder and supporting his weight as they struggled towards the door. Peter made it increasingly difficult as he stopped, mumbling words that he couldn't even understand himself. Finally, he managed to speak more clearly,

"Is that you, Mohinder?"

"Yes, Peter. Come on."

"Wait, what-what's happening?" he asked groggily, losing his balance again but Mohinder caught him before he hit the floor, "Where am I?"

"It's okay," Mohinder told him, pulling him up again by his arm, "You haven't had the surgery yet. They didn't even finish prepping you," Mohinder tried his best to direct him towards the door, "I let Sylar free. He's caused quite a mess. I..I thought he could create a big enough distraction for us to escape."

It took a moment or two for it all to sink in properly, "Sylar?" he mumbled, "Sylar's free? You…you…where are we going?" he pressed his palm to his eyes as they continued to blur in an out of focus, causing his head to ache and confuse him further.

"We're getting out of here," answered Mohinder with determination as they finally left the room. Mohinder looked in all directions to make sure it was safe. Screaming could still be heard over the roaring alarm. Peter weakly squeezed Mohinder's shoulder, tapping at his chest with the other hand as he tried to get his attention.

"You…you need to take me to Sylar," he said feebly, "I can take his powers."

"We've been over this, Peter. We need to go! Sylar could be anywhere right now."

"No," Peter breathed deeply, "I can take his powers. I can be strong again. This is my plan, Mohinder. I have to…I have to," he stumbled forward, as if fading out of consciousness. But Mohinder managed to stop him and he propped him up again, forcing him to walk down the corridor.

"You have to snap out of this, Peter," warned Mohinder as he paused briefly to analyse his pupils. Peter wrinkled his nose and pulled away.

"I'm fine."

They could hear guns firing in the distance and they both took cover behind a wall, "We can still make it," Mohinder insisted, "There's an emergency exit not far from here. If we run we can get out."

"Then what?" Peter breathed, gradually feeling the strength return to him, "There's no escape, Mohinder. Not unless I get those powers."

"Listen to me, Peter," Mohinder snapped a little harsher than expected, "It became every man for himself a long time ago. I could save myself but I'm choosing to help you too. It's too late, alright? We have to go right now. Both of us. While we have the chance! We can give them the slip, we've done it before. Now is the perfect time. Now you either come with me or-"

He stopped abruptly. At first Peter was confused but it all became clear as blood started dripping from his lips and Mohinder fell to the floor without any resistance. His body was still, unmoving. He had been shot right in the back and now he was dead. Peter's mouth hung open and he looked down at Mohinder in disbelief. His last remaining friend was now gone. Another shot rang out and hit the wall beside him. He fell down next to Mohinder and backed in to a corner, defenceless. He couldn't tell where the shooter was and he looked around desperately, the fear he had blocked out for so long suddenly emerging through every part of his body. He would be next. Mohinder was right. He had to leave. He stole one last glance at the man who had saved his life and struggled to his feet before beginning to run down the long dark corridor, the dim lights flickering on and off, on and off repeatedly. Now he was thinking more clearly-almost. But he was too weak to teleport or freeze time or even run as fast as he would have preferred. It didn't help that his breathing pattern hadn't returned to normal yet and now he was panting without even running at top speed.

He heard another shot and collapsed as he felt a searing pain in his right leg. Screaming in agony, he clutched at the bleeding leg, heart thudding hard as blood poured over the floor. He inspected the wound quickly, breathing intensely fast. But he hadn't much time. He clawed at the floor, dragging himself along with every last ounce of strength he had left. Noticing a window up ahead, he hauled himself towards it, pulled himself up and smashed it with his elbow. The glass stabbed at his skin but the throbbing from his leg distracted him. He heard footsteps rush towards him and he threw himself out of the window, landing in some shrubbery below. The pain from his leg radiated. He picked glass from his sore flesh but strived on. He knew by now his efforts would probably be wasted but it didn't stop him from trying. He refused to allow himself to be some science experiment for Danko to prod around with and he refused to give up so easily. It was dark outside-an advantage, as he took it, to hide in the shadows briefly before moving on. His mind still questioned why he was still making such an effort to break free. His life had been over a long time ago. Yet he thought he could still fight. He thought he could still change things. Until now.

"Peter!"

Peter glanced up to see Nathan staring at him. Neither said a word, only stared at the other thoughtfully. Waiting. Waiting for a miracle of some sort. But no such thing seemed to appear.

**Present Day.**

Peter watched cautiously from the car as they hid, parked behind a wall. The black van pulled in to a building, leaving the doors open. Peter saw this as an opportunity. He opened the car door and pulled himself out.

"What are you doing?" Sylar asked him from the driver's seat.

"What does it look like?" Peter impatiently replied as he spoke through the open window, "I'm going in there."

"You'll get yourself killed," he warned.

"Well if you give me your powers now, I won't have to worry about it."

Sylar stared at him with irritation, "I want to see my father first."

"Then let's go."

Rolling his eyes, Sylar let out a small grunt before opening the car door and following Peter towards the building, "So this is it," Sylar briefly studied the building. It wasn't particularly anything special. Just an average brick building. The only difference was, however, that there were armed guards stood outside, ready to shoot at the first sight of trespassers. Two of them emerged from the building, closing the large doors that contained the black van. Noticing this, Peter leapt behind the wall, pulling Sylar along with him. Sylar shook the man off of him but approved of his hiding place and remained where he was, "So what now?"

Peter bit his lip as he spotted two other men appear from the other side of the building and turn a corner just in time to see the two of them crouched against the wall. They raised their guns and Sylar raised his hand, ready to attack. Peter held out his arm to stop him.

He stepped forward gently and the guards yelled at him to stay back. Peter didn't utter another word. He concentrated hard. Sylar watched him curiously. Peter didn't let himself blink as he glared carefully at the two guards who appeared to be spellbound as they watched the man in front of them.

_Put down the guns. You will take us in to the building through a back exit. You will take us to Samson Gray. _

Obediently, they lowered their guns, "This way," one of them beckoned them and they both began to walk in the direction they had came from.

Peter smiled triumphantly and looked back at Sylar who appeared to be sporting an impressed grin, "Amazing," he told him, "The things you can do with that power. Don't tempt me."

Peter shook his head and walked off after the guards. He doubted Sylar would kill him now. Not until they found his father anyway and by then, Peter intended to make a swift escape, after taking his powers of course. Peter would make sure Sylar kept to his side of the bargain.

They entered through an emergency exit that lead to a flight of stairs. The two fugitives followed the men as they made their way up.

"This is unbelievably easy," grinned Sylar widely, still amazed by the ability, "Why didn't you do this before? We could've just strolled right in with no problem at all."

"It doesn't work that way," mumbled Peter as they began to climb up another flight of stairs, "I can't control too many at once. It gets too…complicated. I'm not strong enough."

"Well, maybe if I was to help you…"

"Hey, I don't get your powers; you don't get mine," snapped Peter as they neared another dark coloured door. One of the guards opened it to reveal a corridor with grey tiled floors and bland grey walls. Blinding lights hung from the ceiling, illuminating the shadows that carpeted the corners of the walls and ceiling.

The uniformed guards began to walk freely down the hall towards wherever Samson Gray was being kept. Peter took a step forward, ready to follow when he heard distant voices and felt a violent hand grab at his jacket and yank him back behind the door. Sylar pulled him behind and stood cautiously as he peeked out of the small gap between the door and the wall. Three people walked past. Two of them were henchman leading a shorter, younger figure along the corridor: a prisoner. She wasn't very tall and had flowing blonde hair draped past her shoulders. Her face was covered but the rest alone was enough to capture Peter's attention.

He watched as they lead her down the corridor with wide and restless eyes, "Claire," he mumbled, "It can't be. Not now. It's her, it's happening!" He stepped forward but Sylar pushed him back against the wall forcefully.

"Don't move," he threatened through grit teeth.

Peter didn't make an effort to retaliate. He stood perfectly still as the guards continued to lead the girl off down the hall. When they were gone, Peter pushed Sylar away and snarled at him, "We could've helped her. Now we don't know where they're taking her!"

"You can't even be sure that that's her," Sylar's eyes glanced to the ceiling at the other man's behaviour. "First thing's first," he indicated to the empty hall and, sighing, Peter stepped out first, glancing in all directions to double check if the coast was clear.

"What now?" he muttered as Sylar followed him out in to the open corridor.

"This way," Sylar stepped forward carefully. Peter glanced around him with uncertainty. There were bound to be cameras recording their every move and soon they wouldn't be alone. He knew it would be so much easier with Sylar's powers to defend himself but he also knew it was hopeless pestering him about it any longer. His answer would remain the same until Samson Gray's whereabouts were revealed. He clenched his fists together agitatedly. He was anxious to find Claire and confront his enemies. He was here to put a stop to this, not to follow Sylar's orders. All it took was one touch and that was it. He would be strong enough to stop it. All of it.

He hesitated, eyes darting from Sylar's shoulder to his hand that seemed to be reaching out towards him. His fingers stretched out and brushed Sylar's coat. There was at most half a second of contact before he felt a force lift him off his feet and crash him in to the grey wall behind him.

"You weren't trying to break our deal, were you, Peter?" he asked, grinning arrogantly yet somewhat irritated.

Peter struggled against the invisible force, pulling himself away only to be shoved back against the hard surface, "I need your powers now. I can't wait any longer," he snapped through clenched teeth.

"Such impatience," he shook his head, "I could go from here alone, you know. Stop all of this myself. Be the hero," he smirked at the hate in the other man's eyes and he could see how much he resented his words, "No," he added, glancing away briefly, "I didn't think that sounded like me either. Guess I'll do things the old fashioned way."

He swept his fingers through the air and forced Peter through the door they had just come through. He stumbled and felt his shoulder slam against the hard wall by the stairs. He slid to the floor, clutching at his sore arm before angrily pulling himself up and pushing the door open once more to confront Sylar.

Rushing down the hall, his eyes scanned furiously for the man. He turned a corner and saw him in a secluded corridor by a double door that seemed to contain an eerie blue light, "Hey!" he snapped, storming towards him. But Sylar seemed to be in his own little world as he stared hypnotically in to the blue glowing room. Peter stopped in his tracks and followed his gaze in to the room in front of them. His eyes widened. He couldn't be mad at Sylar anymore.

There were dozens of them. But from where they were standing they seemed to be endless. Rows and rows of people laid out like dead bodies in a cramped morgue. They were stretched out on individual cots, asleep and far from reality, tubes fed up their noses to make sure they wouldn't wake up and be brought back to such a horrible place. There was much the same reaction between the two men: Shock, silence and a deep sickening feeling in the pit of their stomachs. This was all that followed for a while, until Sylar began to step forward, examining each person one by one.

"What are you doing?" Peter whispered, as if to disturb the sleeping prisoners in their involuntary slumber.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Sylar snapped back, though his voice was not loud either. Perhaps to avoid the attention of nearby guards, "I'm looking for my father."

He began to study each face carefully and scan over the pieces of paper stacked by their cots. Peter waited anxiously at the door, hesitating to go in. He just hoped Sylar's father could be found among the unconscious crowd. Otherwise they would all be in trouble. He silently kept watch from the door, scanning his surroundings. If anyone was to try and stop them, he could use Matt's power to tell them to back off. Only problem was their numbers. Sooner or later, a huge team would be summoned to rid of them. They were intruders after all; the enemy. Peter wrinkled his nose, feeling the ache of his previous fall agitate him further as he waited.

Muscles tensed as he heard voices from around the corner. He muttered for Sylar to hurry up but he was out of sight and couldn't be heard. He swallowed and readied himself, hoping there wasn't going to be a large number of guards coming to attack him. A man speaking in to a radio emerged, deep in conversation but upon seeing Peter, he immediately whipped out his gun and aimed straight for him.

_Perfect._

He glared straight for him, focusing all his energy on ordering him to put down the gun. But unexpectedly, he dropped the gun himself and collapsed to the floor with a cry of anguish. Peter stepped back, stunned as the man in front of him writhed in pain until he gradually lost consciousness and remained perfectly still on the floor. Another figure emerged and Peter raised his eyes to see Luke march round the corner with his right arm outstretched and aimed towards the man on the floor. His arm dropped back to his side and his eyes locked with Peter's angrily.

"I see you're busy rescuing me," he spat, approaching Peter with a bitter look.

Peter blinked, unsure how to react, "Where'd you come from? How did you escape?"

"They locked me up in a cell somewhere with some hot blonde. Wasn't in there long though. The big guy let me out. I wondered why he wasn't with you."

Peter's mouth ran dry. He didn't know what to question first; what Luke meant by 'the hot blonde' or who he was talking about when he mentioned 'the big guy'. Matt? He was here? But how? Was he talking about Claire as well? Was she okay? The questions spun around in his mind and he struggled to ask just one so, as they continued to jumble up in his head, he could only manage one stuttered "W...what?"

Before Luke could answer, Matt stumbled round the corner with a frantic look across his features, his bandage had been removed exposing the wound on his forehead. When he saw Peter he rushed over and breathed a sigh of relief, "Oh good, Peter-"

"Matt?" Peter seemed taken aback, "How did you get here? I thought you and Mohinder were being chased."

"We were. We ditched the car and tried to get rid of them on foot. But Mohinder got caught and I followed them here in another car. I found the kid but I can't find Mohinder," he wiped at his face as he caught his breath, "Listen to me, Peter-"

"Matt," Peter interrupted quickly, "Was Claire in the room with Luke?"

"Claire?"

"He said he was sharing his room with a blonde. Did you see her?"

"I didn't see anyone," he breathed, "But listen to me! Daphne is alive."

Peter's eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the other man carefully, "What? Are you sure?"

"I saw her on a security camera tape. She's in a bad way so I need to get to her as soon as possible. I need to find her!" he told Peter anxiously. Each moment wasted was another moment Daphne suffered and another moment closer to losing her forever.

"Okay," Peter bit his lip as the nerves in Matt's eyes screamed at him. The man needed him and he wanted to help. But he wasn't ready. He couldn't, "I need to wait for Sylar. I just need to get those powers and I'll help you."

"I need to go right now," Matt pushed back his hair impatiently, "I can't wait any longer. She needs my help."

He understood Matt's eagerness to find her and he admired his bravery of going after her on his own. Peter had the urge to encourage him, tell him to find her and never let her go again. God knows he had the chance in the past and lost the ones closest to him because of his carelessness. He put the world before the ones he loved. He didn't want Matt to make the same mistakes. He could still get to Daphne and save her, "Okay. Go. Just be careful."

He nodded good luck to him before Matt darted off in the opposite direction but his heart was racing, his patience rapidly dwindling away with each passing moment. He was sick of waiting. Either Sylar let him take his powers or he was going to force his way over and take them without his approval at all. This was wasting precious time. And Peter couldn't afford to waste anymore time. He began to turn and yelled Sylar's name, pushing aside fears of being overheard-it was surely too late for subtleness by now. But in mid-turn he was interrupted by a body flying right in front of him and hitting the wall next to him. Sylar's temporarily weakened frame slid down and landed on the floor. He looked up, dazed.

"Found him," he croaked.

Peter stepped back beside Luke as Sylar struggled to his feet, shaking the pain from his body,

"That's why we came all this way? So you could pick a fight with him?"

"What can I say?" Sylar mumbled, brushing himself off, "Must have said something he didn't like."

He ducked as a bolt of fire shot straight for him, burning a whole in the wall he had fallen against. His eyes narrowed and an angry glare fixed on to his facial features. Peter grabbed him and pulled him to one side, eventually loosening on to his hold and he simply placed his hand on the other man's arm. Sylar shrugged him off before he could do anything,

"What the Hell are you doing?"

"Taking your powers. Like we agreed."

"I'm busy right now."

"I don't have time for this, alright? If we're ever going to shut this place down I need them now before it's too late."

"I'm in the middle of something here."

"I see you brought a friend," a new voice intervened. Peter turned to see an older man with long strands of straw-like hair and a thick grey beard. So this was Samson Gray, " Oh, and a familiar face," he turned his attention briefly to Luke who seemed to be a cross between astonished and furious. He glanced at Peter again before locking eyes with his estranged son once more, "Any friend of yours is a friend of mine," he told Sylar dryly. Sylar chewed on the inside of his cheek and raised his hand,

"You're going to pay for what you did," he replied bitterly before shocking him with a fresh bolt of electricity.

Peter and Luke were forced to dive out of the way. As if things couldn't get any worse, the alarm sounded loudly from all directions and soon enough, a whole team of men emerged from the stairs with guns, shooting at them from what they assumed was a safe distance.

The fight appeared to have journeyed back in to the large room of prisoners. Luke felt a bullet shoot past him. Panicked and angry, he shot back at them with his own weapon-his heat wave ability. The men cried out in agony and backed away quickly.

Peter crawled through the doors behind him and pulled himself up as he stared at the two fighting men. He didn't care what unfinished business they both had. He would join in if it meant finally getting those essential powers. He stalked angrily towards them, only to notice a familiar figure in one of the cots he passed. Tracy Strauss. Yes, he remembered her well. Once in alliance with his brother (and a lot more than he cared to think about), now one of his helpless prisoners. Another outcast. A 'danger' to society.

He tugged the tube from her nose and gently tapped her face. Meanwhile, it seemed two battles were going on: the reunited (but not reconciled) father and son team not so far from where he was standing as they carelessly knocked over machines and bumped in to those unfortunate enough to be lying right beside them, and the young teenage rebel outside who fought against the many guards who threatened and attacked him. It took bravery-Peter gave them that. But either way, these innocent people were liable to suffer their wrath. He heard a soft moan from below and saw that the woman had woken up. Disorientated and groggy, she reached for Peter's face as her eyes fought to stay open,

"Peter, is that you?"

"You need to get up right now," he told her.

As those events unfolded, Matt was beginning a new mission of his own. Daphne was alive. It was a miracle, he realised that. Seeing her on that screen felt surreal to him. But he knew for certain he had seen her; that she was here. And now he had to rescue her and make sure that she was as far away from this place as possible. Three guards ran towards him and raised their guns, aiming for his head. He froze. There was no time to panic. No time for this. He told them to back down but with three, it appeared to be more of a struggle. He was distracted, unfocused. They yelled orders at him and demanded he get on the floor with his hands behind his head.

He bit down hard on his lip. He couldn't. There was no time. But he knew he had no choice so he began to kneel down, hands in the air and pointed towards the ceiling. They approached him. Matt closed his eyes, cleared his mind and then tried again. _Let me go. I'm on your side. I'm not the enemy. _

It seemed to be working. Slightly disorientated, they put down their guns. However, the third one remained unaffected. He stared at the other two with confusion and demanded what the Hell they thought they were doing. He aimed his glare and gun towards Matt. The other two watched, unsure what to do.

_I'm not the enemy. He is. _Matt directed their attention to the man in front of him.

With that, the two guards raised their guns towards the other. He dropped his, startled and bewildered by their strange behaviour. Matt left them to their arguing and slipped down the corridor towards where he hoped Daphne was being kept. He couldn't contain his excitement at seeing her again but at the same time he was afraid of seeing her so damaged and so distressed. He realised that as soon as he reunited with her, he would have to get her away from here and to a hospital as fast as he could.

He approached a corridor with a series of doors against each wall. His mind raced as he realised Daphne must be behind one of them. He stopped at each one, listening intently. What he heard wasn't the troubled thoughts of Daphne but of other helpless people. He considered letting them free but decided against it. If he let them go now, they would be in danger of getting shot or killed. Daphne would be rotting away, worsening by the second. He needed to get to her now.

"Daphne!" he yelled, "Daphne, can you hear me?" he banged his fist against each door and concentrated hard between each yell. No reply. He was running out of time, "Daphne! Are you there?"

He paused, hearing something. It was muffled and unclear, obviously distressed. _Matt? _His name was all he heard. It was Daphne. He was sure of it. She attempted to further her thoughts but her mind was too muddled, her body in pain. He placed his hand against the door, thumping hard with the other one as he called her name loudly.

Perhaps too loudly. A uniformed man with a gun emerged from the other end of the corridor and aimed right for him. Matt was sick of this game but he saw an advantage in this guy's appearance. He raised his hands, surrendering but at the same time ordered the man to find the key to the door and unlock it. He shook his head in confusion but eventually pulled the key from his belt and unlocked the door, revealing a very weak Daphne laid out on a metal bench.

"Daphne!" Matt held his breath and ran over to her, taking in each little wound and fracture she had upon her fragile body before turning his attention to the main problem: a bullet hole in her side, surrounded by dry blood. He swallowed hard and pulled the tubes from her nose before brushing her cheek softly with his thumb, "It's okay. I'm here now. We're leaving. We're going to get help, okay? You're safe."

He lifted her effortlessly as she mumbled disjointed sentences, sweat droplets forming on her brow. She whispered his name and he reassured her gently as he hurried down the corridor.

"Parkman."

He froze as he saw a familiar figure standing in front of him, clad in expensive attire and a sophisticated black trench coat. Matt glared at him as Nathan Petrelli prevented him from taking another step towards freedom.

"Get out of my way, Nathan," he snapped coldly, "She's dying. I need to get her to a hospital."

Nathan frowned and dropped his eyes to the floor, "I'm sorry, Matt," he said genuinely, "I can't let you do that." his eyes met with Matt's once again and he felt the hate burn through him.

"Why not?" he asked, his grip on Daphne tightening, "You're just going to let her die here? You want that on your conscious as well, do you?" he breathed heavily as Daphne cried out in pain, "Let me go, Nathan. I can save her. I can get her to a hospital"

"I told you, I can't," Nathan replied emotionlessly, "They'll ask questions. Questions you can't answer and won't," he said in an almost threatening tone, "Now tell me where my brother is."

~*~

"Peter, what's happening?" Tracy questioned as she and Peter crouched behind the various machinery in the room. Peter was hunched behind one of the cots as he peered round to watch the vicious fight continue. Every so often they would pause and talk, or rather yell, but Peter couldn't make out what they were saying. He turned to face Tracy who sat cautiously beside him and appeared to be understandably confused and disorientated. He shook his head,

"I'll explain later. Right now, I need you to do something for me."

"What?"

"I need you to freeze Sylar's father so I can reach Sylar and absorb his powers. You can do that, right?"

"You want me to kill him?" Uncertainty was clear in her voice.

"I want you to make sure he can't interrupt us or hurt anyone," he explained, watching them as Samson Gray had grabbed his son's neck and had him dangling above him as he choked for air. He gathered Sylar wouldn't be much used to him dead. Now was the perfect time to strike. The old man needed to be stopped immediately, "Now! Quickly!"

She stood and hurried over, making sure the two men didn't notice her. Peter watched from a safe distance as she punched Sylar's father in the face, causing him to drop his son and send him sprawling to the floor. She grabbed his shoulder and he grabbed for her neck, squeezing tightly. Fortunately, his arm had already begun to freeze and his grip immediately softened as he watched his body gradually turn to ice. She smirked at him, "Nice try."

Sylar looked over from the floor as he quickly recovered, "Hey!" he cried angrily as he watched Tracy diminish his chance for revenge. He raised his arm, ready to make a move as he crawled to his feet only to have a furious Peter leap right for him and send him hurtling to the ground once more.

"Let's finish this, huh?" he growled as he firmly gripped his shoulder. Sylar struggled but Peter had him securely pinned as he closed his eyes and waited for the feeling of power and strength to surge through him once again.

~*~

**Three Years in to the Future.**

Nathan appeared in front of him, distressed. His hair was a mess and lose strands poked out from the once neatly combed cut. Red circles could be seen under his eyes, but not from crying-from exhaustion.

"Nathan," Peter breathed as he tried to push himself to his feet. Failing, he landed on the concrete again, "Help me."

Nathan's eyes showed the deepest uncertainty he had ever seen as he stood, planted to the concrete beneath his feet. Peter turned, letting out little grunts of pain as he nursed his sore leg and watched the man above him expectantly. Nathan breathed shakily, "I..I can't."

That was enough to distract him from the agony, "What?"

"I'll take you back inside. It'll be okay."

"It's gone to Hell in there, Nathan! They'll kill me!" spat Peter.

"No, I won't let them."

"Is that what you said to Claire?" Peter almost yelled, pushing himself up with difficulty, "Didn't you make the same promise to me? I don't think you're in control as much as you think you are."

"Peter-"

"Just help me, Nathan. I don't want to go back there. I _won't_ go back there. We can fly out of here and figure out some way to stop this. Please."

"You don't understand," Nathan began, a frown across his face, "I can't. We have a deal. It's too late."

Peter limped towards him, an angry yet bewildered look on his face, "What do you mean?"

He hesitated, clearing his throat before answering, "Danko knows about me. He's known for a while now. But," he paused, biting his lip momentarily, "He's agreed to keep it quiet as long as I let him call the shots. Don't you see? I have to stay here and make sure things don't get even more out of hand then they already are."

Peter laughed through the hurting, "Are you out of your mind? How much worse can things get?" he yelled furiously, "This stupid deal," he continued, "this deal is obviously more important than your family if you let them die for it," he added hatefully.

"How many more times do I have to tell you? Claire was an accident. She was never meant to…she shouldn't have died. They were running some tests…and somehow…she just never woke up. That's the truth. It wasn't intentional..."

"She's not the only one though, is she?" Peter interrupted bitterly, "All of those people-our _friends_. Family. It took me a while to notice mom's never at the house anymore. Do you even know where she is?"

"She's safe."

"You know that for a fact now, do you?"

"Peter, I'm sorry," Nathan glanced down apologetically, "but I'm going to have to take you back. You won't get far with that leg anyway. You're safer here."

Somehow, that didn't appear the case. Now was the perfect opportunity to escape and if Nathan wasn't going to help him then he'd have to do things his own way. He pushed passed him and concentrated hard on the past. To before he was caught, before Claire died, before he was given this hideous scar and back to when he could change things. Just to a place and time where he knew he could stop this from happening. Even if he couldn't, it was just a comfort to know that, some way and somehow, it was a possibility.

He slowly opened his eyes and saw Nathan in front of him. His lips moved quickly but Peter couldn't hear a word he was saying. He felt dizzy, as if he were swaying very gently from side to side. He was still here but the world felt different somehow. Everything seemed quiet and dreamy, the scenes around him played slowly and hazily and for a moment he thought he himself had slowed time. But it wasn't that at all.

Nathan watched nervously as Peter unsteadily looked down at his side and placed a hand on the side of his stomach. He slowly lifted his shaking palm in to view, revealing a dripping handful of blood. He let out a few short breaths, sharing a fearful glance with Nathan before collapsing in to his arms. Nathan grabbed him and they sank to the floor,

"Peter! Peter!" he gently tapped at his face as Peter struggled to breath, both hands grabbing at Nathan's arms. The wounds from his leg and stomach formed a red pool of blood beside them, "No, no, no, Peter," His grip on Nathan loosened whilst his eyes slowly closed, as if finally leaving like he had so desperately tried to before, "Peter, wake up! Wake up! I said wake up!" Peter didn't move but Nathan continued to shake him, "I'm so sorry, Pete. No," his lip quivered, "Peter?" Nothing. Peter's bloodied hand dropped to the floor and his chest stopped rising and falling. His eyes remained firmly shut. Nathan half expected him to re-generate and open his eyes again like he had before. But he knew he couldn't. It was clear he wasn't going to miraculously wake up. He was gone. Tears streamed down the older man's cheeks and he held his brother close, hanging on to whatever was left of him. He closed his eyes and rested a hand on the back of Peter's head, rocking him gently without even realising, "I'm sorry." He was so drowned in his grief, he didn't even realise that the old scar from Peter's face was no longer there.

**3 Years Earlier**

It was the moment he had been waiting for all this time, what his future self had suggested he do to save the world, to save everybody. To prevent the horrors he had lived through and to create a better future for people like him. This wasn't just for himself, but for the population of "special" people around the globe who wouldn't be safe until he ended this, finally.

He had lived up to his side of the bargain. Now he was going to take what was his. He felt reality vanish before him and drown out the sound of bullets from outside the room, the various yells that echoed through the halls and the vicious snarls of the man that tried so desperately to push him away. He seemed to find an inner strength. The strength he had craved for so long; not just physically, but mentally too.

He felt something, but was unsure what it was. His mind suddenly began to spin. Faces danced in front of his eyes, memories he had not lived through, people he had not met, murders he had not witnessed. Yet they were playing right in front of his eyes. He suddenly saw the familiar figures of his friends, family and with them their powers. He hadn't realised his grip had loosened. He clutched at his head, feeling the rush, the stream of sensations, emotions and images of these people; how they made him feel and think and how they controlled their abilities. He was overwhelmed. His body shook slightly and his brain begged for relief. He released his grip from Sylar and within seconds found himself face up on the floor, a fist heading straight for him.

He cried out at the impact. He heard a female voice yell his name as he lifted his head groggily. Tracy. She was still here. He remembered now. His eyes glanced upward at the furious man above him, eyes wild with fury, "You killed him," his eye twitched angrily, "I told you to back off but you couldn't wait to have your precious powers. Now what, Peter?"

Tracy attempted to pull the other man off of him only to feel an invisible force sweep her off her feet and slide her quickly across the room. Peter unsteadily watched her crash in to the wall behind her. Dazed, he returned his glare back to Sylar.

"I was supposed to make him suffer!" he shouted hysterically, surprising Peter in the process as the feeling of awareness slowly returned to him. He noticed Sylar looking at Tracy who held her head as she recovered from the attack, "You," he began darkly, "You'll wish you never listened to _him_," he stalked slowly towards her, fire erupting from his palms. Peter wiped the blood from his lip and crawled to his feet. Tracy tried to do the same as she leant against the wall with no escape, armed with a sharp yet fearful glare as Sylar raised his hand to attack. You can't fight ice with fire. Fire always won. And this, Tracy knew. She swallowed. Sylar smirked. If he couldn't get revenge on his father, he would on these two, starting with the lucky blonde ice princess. He stepped towards her. The last step he took before the ground beneath him seemed to vanish and he became airborne before meeting the floorboards on the opposite side of the room. Tracy stared in astonishment and directed her gaze to her rescuer. Peter stood with mainly the same expression as his arm gently dropped to his side again. He had attacked Sylar with the familiar power, Telekenesis. The open-mouthed shock soon formed in to a wide smile. His powers were back. He could feel it, familiarise with it. It was as if they were never gone. He shared a small smirk with the woman in front of him,

"I know it sounds cliché but, come on-we have work to do."

~*~

"Let's not play games, Matt. I know he brought you here. What's he trying to do now?"

"He's trying to stop you. _We're _trying to stop you. What you're doing is wrong and you know it. I _know _you, Nathan," Matt took a gentle step forward, "This is all going to end in a way you don't want it to."

"I've got it under control," Nathan scowled as if Matt's words were an insult, "You don't understand the dangers these abilities bring. I'm just trying to help."

"So is this how you help Daphne?" he indicated to the limp woman in his arms, "She never did anything and you were going to let her die just because of the way she is."

"I'm sorry, Matt," Nathan glanced down piteously, "I'm going to call for back up."

He began to raise the phone to his face as Matt sighed deeply, "Didn't want to have to do this, Nathan."

Any additional noise or thoughts silenced from the older man's mind, except one voice: Matt's. The phone dropped from his grip and smashed to the floor. Nathan shook his head, rubbing his eyes with his fingers but free will seemed to vanish despite his efforts. He stepped aside involuntarily, allowing Matt to proceed to the exit.

"Don't do this!" Nathan managed to exclaim as he stood perfectly still whilst Matt made his escape. Determined, Matt continued to the stairs where the back exit was, Daphne still clutched in his arms as he carried her down the stairway and out of the building. He began to make his way across the concrete when, to the right of him, he noticed a few armed men inspecting the car that Sylar and Peter had arrived in. He rested against the brick wall, planning his next move. Breathing heavily for a few moments, he shot across and hid behind the next building. Nobody had spotted him to his knowledge. He didn't think a hospital was very far away-he just needed a way to get there. For now he had to concentrate on getting her far away from here. He felt guilty for leaving the others behind, knowing they were in so much danger but Daphne needed urgent medical attention and staying here wouldn't get her the help she needed. He hurried off in to the distance, stealing a glance at the wretched place as he travelled farther and farther away.

~*~

Sylar hadn't stirred since his forceful landing so Peter could only assume he had been knocked out. Luckily, this meant he could enter the next phase of the plan without interruptions from him. He told Tracy to start freeing the prisoners and to help them escape knowing full well the amount of guards that awaited them outside. He decided this would be their war. _Us against them_, as he described it. These people were civilians but they were civilians with special advantages. They had powers that could enable them to rise above the enemy. And with the right amount of organisation and team work, they could very well win.

He was on his way to get Luke when the boy hurtled through the door, clutching at his left arm in agony, "They caught me off guard," he muttered, trying to ignore the pain, "There was just too many of them. I couldn't hold them off any longer."

Peter held his arms out to inspect the injury cautiously, "It's just a flesh wound. You'll be fine."

"Easy for you to say," Luke grit his teeth through the pain and stared at Peter from the corners of his eyes.

"Listen, I need you to show me the cell where you were kept…you told me a blonde was in there with you."

"I don't think now is the time or the place, man."

Well he was right about one thing; this was not a time for light comedy, "Just show me where she is, Luke."

"Now? Out there? There's, like, eight guys out there!" Luke protested, still holding his bleeding arm tightly.

"I'll deal with them," Peter breathed before turning to face Tracy hesitantly, unsure whether to leave her.

"Go," she told him as she began to tend to the other prisoners, "I'll be fine."

He nodded and told her he'd be back soon before heading towards the doors and beckoning for Luke to follow. He could at least make sure the armed men outside couldn't bother her. Luke followed him as he walked through the doors and was greeted with a shower of bullets. The boy leapt to the ground whilst Peter cried out in pain at the bullets lodged in his body. One by one he pulled them out whilst the others stared at him with astonishment. The wounds healed in no time at all.

"Woah," he heard Luke say from his hiding place.

The metal bullets dropped to the floor and with a swipe of his hand, so did their guns. He smiled, "I really missed those," he commented referring to the pleasing convenience of telekenesis and self-healing.

One of the men began to speak in to his radio, presumably calling for back up. This was easily avoided. They gasped as a blue bolt of electricity headed straight for the radio, preventing the device from being used. The lights blinked on and off. Peter realised if he was to avoid hurting anyone, he would have to scare these men off before they could make a move. He held his breath as a ball of fire emerged in his palm. It was funny, he thought to himself, how the first time he had this power he almost destroyed half of New York. Now he felt perfectly in control. He aimed and shot right in front of the men opposite, causing flames to rise up around them. They jumped back in fear. Now they really had to decide what was more important: their lives or their duty? One of them towards the side seemed to have finished a short emergency radio call and then began to order the group to retreat out of the area. They filed out of the hall, leaving Peter and Luke alone. The boy slowly got to his feet.

"You did it. They're gone."

But something told Peter this wasn't over. The lights suddenly shut off, leaving the whole floor in darkness. Luke stood next to Peter who glanced up as the lights faded. Fortunately, sunlight from the windows allowed them to see,

"Let's go," Peter told Luke calmly as he began to make his way towards another exit.

**~*~**

Sylar seemed to be sleeping soundly at the side of the room, dry blood upon his forehead-the wound healed, of course. Tracy wasn't sure how long he would be out for, and she didn't have time to check to see if he was waking up. All was quiet in the dark surroundings. The gun fire had ceased and there was only silence outside. The only noises were that of Tracy attempting to wake up her fellow prisoners and their groggy moans of disturbance as they were awoken from their peaceful drug-induced sleep. She had woken up two people by the time two dark pairs of eyes shot open from across the room.

Sylar pulled himself up with ease and faced Tracy's back as she continued, oblivious to his presence, to help the others. He approached her slowly and, with a sly grin, tapped her on the back. She turned around and stared at him with a pair of stunned blue eyes as the owner of the ones in front of her threw her against the beige wall.

"Let me go!" she demanded furiously, though the fear in her voice betrayed her as her arms and legs struggled desperately to break free.

"I told you that you would regret ever listening to Peter Petrelli," Sylar told her in a low, serious voice, "I made the same mistake."

The other, lucid prisoners watched fearfully from their cots. One man attempted to fight him off with laser-type matter that shot from his finger tips but his bravery was wasted and he watched the man in front of him sweep his fingers at him before feeling a hard surface hit his back and head, knocking him out instantly. After that any other attempts to overthrow the man weren't executed.

Tracy gasped for air as she felt a force squeeze around her neck like a thick rope, tightening more as Sylar stepped closer towards her.

"You're quite a tough one, aren't you?" Sylar asked her, not expecting a coherent answer, "Shame I have to kill you now," he finished, raising his right arm to do what he did best.

Timing seemed to be a relieving factor for Nathan Petrelli as he saw the commotion and raced to Tracy's aid. Clobbering Sylar with a folded chair seemed to stun the mad man as he dropped to the floor, yelling in agony. Nathan finished him off with another strike. And another. And one more until he couldn't find the strength to recover quickly enough. He held a hand out to Tracy and she returned his gesture with a harsh glare.

"Come on," he told her, "Before he tries to kill you again."

"So you can lock me up again?" she spat scornfully, "I think I'll try my chances."

"You saw him! He was going to kill you," the man in front of her reminded her, "Please. We need to go. Trust me."

The hesitance shone in her eyes as her muscles tightened, warning her to stay where she was. Her mind screamed at her, advising all sorts of different solutions, presenting various scenarios. But the fear throughout her entire body seemed greater. It appeared she had no better option then to trust Nathan at that moment.

She held out her hand and he grabbed it, locking his palm with hers as he lead her out of there as fast as possible. She glanced back as he pulled her onwards,

"What about the others?" she cried, "Aren't you going to let them free?"

There was no time to stop. He lead her down the corridor, though the darkness, "I said I'd help you, not let them go."

She stopped in her tracks, tugging her hand away, eyes wide and anxious, "Where are you taking me?"

He held his hands up reassuringly and took a gentle step towards her, "Somewhere safe. Don't worry. I'm trying to help you."

"You're not helping me," she bit her lip angrily, "You don't care about me-you're going to lock me up again."

"That's not true," he assured, "I swear, Tracy. I never wanted you mixed up in this. I do care about you. That's why we've got to go-right now."

She stepped back again, eyes narrowing furiously, "You don't care about anyone."

She was expecting Nathan-the well _respected_ politician, the _responsible_ older brother-to reply with an offended comment about how he cared deeply for anyone from his family to each individual in the country. It was his job, after all, to care. What she wasn't expecting, however, was for Matt Parkman to appear out of nowhere and pound the man over the head with his fist. Nathan collapsed to the floor, revealing Matt behind him,

"Sorry, Nathan," he apologised, shaking the pain out of his fist. Normally, he disliked such violence but in this case, it had to be necessary. He had felt guilty leaving his friends here to battle by themselves but at the same time felt the same pang of remorse by leaving Daphne to fight for her own life alone in that hospital. By the looks of it though, he had got here just in time. He turned his attention to the blonde woman in front of him, "Need some help?"

She tried to focus her thoughts. That's when she remembered, "Sylar. He's with the other prisoners. They need our help!" Normally, at this point, Tracy's first instinct would be to get out of there and save herself. But something told her she needed to go back. She needed to help the others so they could help her. So they could destroy this building and everything it was. She understood Peter's desperation to take down this place and get revenge on the people that had hurt him. She too was hurt and she too longed for some satisfying revenge. Nathan would had to wait. The others needed her now.

~*~

"We need to hurry," Peter warned Luke as they rushed down the long, grey corridor.

"So you keep saying," muttered Luke, trying to keep up with the older man that accompanied him. And he thought _he _was leading the way!

"Which way?" demanded Peter as they neared the end of the corridor.

Luke was no more impressed with his tone and behaviour then he had been five minutes ago, "Who is this girl anyway? Like a girlfriend or something?"

"She's my niece," he explained quickly, hardly glancing at him, "Now which way?"

"This way," Luke overtook him and lead him down another corridor, feeling his way through the dark and squinting as his eyes fought to see through the shadows. Peter eagerly followed. Sooner this was all over, the better. Peter hadn't been too surprised that Nathan had allowed his own brother to be hunted like a common animal, but his teenage daughter? Had he really sunk that low?

Luke stopped almost causing the restless Peter to bump in to him, "What is it?" he asked.

Luke turned, looking thoughtful as he glanced around, "I think it must be one of these."

"_One_ of these? Can't you remember which one?" Was this kid trying to make things hard? This would surely waste time.

"Dude, I was _drugged_. I was blindfolded on the way in. What more do you want from me?"

Peter nodded. He wasted no time in apologising, "Help me," he simply said as he began to knock on each door, calling Claire's name. He would never forgive himself if something had happened to her. He knew the future could change so easily-he just resented the fact that his future self hadn't come back to warn him; that Claire would be taken sooner then he first thought, that it was all beginning now and not later. He knew the future could be confusing-he thought about it all the time. But right now, the present was what was most important. He had to concentrate on now. He knew what was going to happen, and what would happen if he didn't prevent it. Now was the important part; changing things. Making a new future-a better one. It wouldn't be easy, but it was worth all the pain and panic he had already endured, and _would_ endure.

He banged his fist on the metal door, "Claire? Hello?"

_Is that Peter?_

Peter stood back from the door. Those words weren't spoken aloud, were they? It was a familiar sensation. One that Peter could only identify as mind reading. But that couldn't be. Matt's power was gone. He had Sylar's now. Unless….

_Peter, is that you? Can you hear me? Please hear me. _

He stepped forward again and stood close to the door in front of him. Luke stood behind, watching curiously. Peter placed a hand on the door and rested his head against it, listening carefully,

"Mohinder? I can hear you."

_It's me. You need to get me out of here._

"Hang on."

Peter stood back a far distance and examined the door. Which one of his many new powers could he use to knock down this door? Telekinesis probably wouldn't budge it. He gathered electrocuting it wouldn't do much either, nor would setting it on fire. God knows how many other abilities Sylar had stolen from people over time. Oddly, he could vaguely see these strangers in his mind, but it didn't much help him.

Luke rolled his eyes, "Allow me," he began as he raised his non-injured arm and aimed, with his hand, for the metal door. It gradually melted away, leaving a sticky hot dripping mess. Peter slipped through the sticky-less gap leaving an annoyed Luke outside before following, "You're welcome…"

The Indian man could be seen, gagged, in the centre of the room, arms tied around a metal bar to stop him from breaking free, "Mohinder!" Peter rushed over to him and pulled the gag from his mouth.

"Peter, I had a feeling you were here!" he breathed with relief, "When the alarm went off, they gagged me and left in a hurry."

"Well, it's okay now. We can do what we came here to do. I have my powers back," he told Mohinder before circling round him to figure out how to break him free from the metal bar behind his back.

"You have? Excellent! That'll give us a certain advantage over them."

Peter observed the metal bar and sighed, beckoning Luke to once again help him out. He guessed, even with all of these new powers, he couldn't figure out how to do everything all at once. Luke hesitantly melted the shackles around Mohinder's sore wrists. Mohinder pulled his arms back in front of him and stretched the pain from his muscles. He stood and faced Peter, "There's one thing I don't understand."

Peter looked up at him curiously, "And that is?"

"If you took Sylar's powers then how were you able to read my mind?"

He stood still and shook his head, glancing gently at Luke as if he had the answers tucked away in that pompous, hormonal brain of his. But he looked just as clueless. He locked eyes with his old friend and shrugged, considering any possibilities, "Perhaps Sylar took another mind reader's power?"

"Or maybe it's happening again," Mohinder pointed out sharply with a small smile, "Like before."

"We don't know that," Peter replied sternly. There was no point in getting his hopes us. Now he had Sylar's powers, he believed that was enough. He had gotten used to the fact that he wouldn't be able to gain anyone else's powers after Sylar's. Before it happened by accident, now he could control what powers he took he would have to be careful. It was unlikely that Sylar would let him take his abilities again. It had been difficult enough the first time. He wasn't going to be put through that a second time.

"Think about it, Peter," urged Mohinder, "It makes sense. It's happened before-it's your natural ability."

"I don't have time to think about, it" he almost snapped, "We have some people to save. Right now, I've got to find Claire."

He began to make his way out of the door, Mohinder following closely with Luke not far behind.

"Claire? She's here?"

"Just like Future Peter said," muttered Present Peter, "I just didn't think it would be this soon. I saw her earlier. Something must have happened. We must have changed something-anything to get her caught."

"This isn't your fault, you know. You couldn't have known it would happen this soon, surely!"

"Well, it doesn't matter now. I just have to find her and help her. I have to help all of them," he glanced at his friend seriously before concentrating on the path in front of him, "Luke says she's in one of these. Will you help me find her?"

"Of course."

The two began their search. Peter listened intently outside each door to see if he could hear the thoughts of the people inside. So far, there was only silence. Apart from Mohinder's pounding on the hard metal, denting the door until it broke off it's hinges and fell to the ground.

Nothing. Empty.

Mohinder glanced sympathetically at his friend, "Maybe they moved her?"

Peter shook his head and frowned, "She has to be here," he took off towards the other end of the corridor where Luke was making himself useful and melting the doors of each room.

The boy paused, shaking the pain from his arm. This was more work then he thought it would be. Extending his arm, he tried again. He was sure the girl must be in here. Most of the other rooms had all been checked by now. This had to be the one!

The door dropped to the ground as the hinges dissolved away. Inside, a blonde girl faced the wall drowsily, her hand propped up against it as if it were the only thing keeping her from collapsing. Her bright orange uniform clashed with her dark, grungy surroundings. Luke took a small step forwards, "Uh, guys. I think I found her."

Peter raced towards him and peered inside the dirty cell. There she was. He stepped inside, his heart beating fast. Finally. They could change her fate, and everybody else's. The future he had glimpsed at would never happen and perhaps, after all of this, the people he loved could be safe again. He reached for her shoulder, "Claire?" She turned around. She was the correct height, build, hair style. But she wasn't Claire. He didn't know whether he was relieved or disappointed. He supposed he should be thankful that she wasn't here. Hopefully, she would still be safe at home with her mother and away from this war that was bound to ensue.

Gently, he took the tube out from the girl's nostrils and allowed the clean air to be breathed in to her lungs. She blinked a few times before finally looking Peter in the eyes.

Peter let out a brief sigh before speaking, "Come with me. We need your help."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

**Present Day.**

It was the same questions over and over again: "_Help with what?" "Where are we going?" "What's happening?" "Who are you people?" _

None of them were in a position right now to sit down and have a little Q and A about the situation, so they could only reply with short, simple answers. "_You need to help us fight a war, for our freedom." _seemed to be Mohinder's favourite answer whereas Peter preferred to keep the "war" part secret for now. At least until they knew a war was absolutely necessary. He would simply tell them to stay close and keep an eye out, that they were in danger and they must do what he said if they wanted to survive. Of course they didn't like this. But Mohinder's reply didn't seem to be very appreciated either. Luke merely followed, grumbling to himself and complaining about his wounded arm.

There were seven of them now. They had found another four people in the remaining cells in the long corridor. None of whom, any of the previous three had ever met. And they certainly liked to ask a lot of questions.

"What does he mean by '_a war?_'" the small blonde woman questioned Peter as she practically ran a long side him.

"Zoe, right?" the woman nodded a yes to him, "I'm going to be straight with you, Zoe. You were brought here because you're special, like me. Like all of us. You have a gift, is that right?" he didn't pause for another response, "Well, these people that brought you here, they don't like people like us. That's why we need your help. We need you to help us fight back."

She seemed to take the news maturely, "Sounds dangerous."

"It might be. But the truth is we have no choice. We need to get everyone out of here before anyone else gets hurt. And we need to bring this whole organisation down to make sure nothing like this ever happens again."

She was almost panting at the speed in which they were walking, "And how are you going to do that?"

He swallowed before continuing, "I'm going to confront the people in charge and _persuade _them to change their minds."

She simply stared at him. Peter couldn't bring himself to look back at her. She may not be Claire but she looked so much like her. And deep down it hurt to not _know _where she was and if she was alright. He cursed his mind for being elsewhere. It was important he stayed focussed. Especially now.

Their heads turned at the sound of a gun shot. Before Peter could stop her, Zoe had leapt in front of them with a protective arm out in front. The bullet simply bounced right off her. The others blinked at her curiously. Her ability? She glanced at them quickly.

"It does that whenever I'm scared or angry. Skin becomes as hard as metal."

"That'll be useful right now," Mohinder spoke up behind the crowd. Peter nodded gratefully at her before turning his attention to their attacker. He felt his muscles tighten at the sight of him.

"Ah, the infamous Peter Petrelli. I've been very eager to meet you," the cold, brazen voice echoed down the halls. It was the man from his visions, from his and Matt's drawings. The man he came here to stop. Danko.

"And I've been eager to meet you," he replied roughly, stepping forward.

The enemy didn't seem impressed, "Is this where you make your righteous speech about how wrong I am to keep you all locked up here? How you're going to stop me? Let me save you the trouble. You've crossed a line here, kid. And you're going to regret ever coming here."

Peter breathed deeply but nothing could contain his anger at that moment. He could feel the burning rage filter through his finger tips, boiling the blood in his veins. He couldn't control it. His fingers twitched vigorously. The bones in his wrist felt as if they were in knots. He had to lash out at somebody; at this man, who thought he was above them, above authority, who thought he had the right to play God and take away life as he pleased. Or at least, would. Peter knew exactly what man he would become, and what man he was, without ever having met him before. The static stung between his fingers. He didn't need a verbal response. His hand shot up and the electric blue rocketed towards him. Danko lost control of his body and Peter watched as he writhed helplessly on the floor. Mohinder tapped him on the shoulder frantically.

"Peter. Peter!"

It was as if he were in a trance. It didn't seem to bother him that a man he hardly knew was suffering through so much pain because of him. But Peter couldn't shake the thought that this man had caused pain himself, that he _deserved _such agony. But even Mohinder noticed he wasn't behaving himself. The blue light flickered like the failing yellow lights above them had, almost hypnotising. The screams echoed though the building.

"Peter!"

More gun shots could be heard over the unpleasant mix of shrieking and crackling electricity and it was then Peter realised Danko hadn't come here to confront him alone. He stopped, horrified and ripped his hand away. He turned to face the others who were watching with frightened and anxious eyes. Peter took no time in accessing his actions, or to bother explaining himself,

"Go find Tracy and the others. She'll need your help. Go, quickly!"

They began to hurry down the corridor but Mohinder lingered, worriedly.

"It's okay, Mohinder. Go with them. I just need to settle this."

He nodded, knowing Peter could handle whatever it was that was coming to him. As he left, Peter turned his attention back to Danko who had risen slowly from the floor, clothes a little sooty and torn but otherwise fine. He didn't know how lucky he was to be alive, or to still have his brain in one piece.

"You think killing me will get you what you want?" the old man grumbled as he cleared his throat and shook the pain away. He raised a shaky hand towards the shooters to tell them to lower their weapons.

"No harm in trying," Peter muttered in response. He could almost feel the sharp glare from his opponent.

"You have no idea what you've gotten yourself in to. And I'll tell you now, there's no way out. You're going down, you and the rest of them."

Peter lifted two fingers and flung him in to the wall. He cried out in pain, mumbling as he got up. The guards had already lifted their weapons, just waiting for the word. But Danko told them to wait.

"The only thing going down around here is your insane idea to kidnap and experiment on innocent people with abilities. And if I have to kill you to spare the lives of hundreds of other people then so be it."

Danko dusted himself off and only smirked at him, "And what about your brother? Will you kill him too? You know this was his idea. If I'm gone, he'll still be here to continue where we left off."

Peter growled, "You've got him wrapped around your little finger, haven't you? But I'm betting he's not the one who's planning to execute innocent people for damn experiments," he yelled the last part and sent Danko flying without meaning to, along with several other men and any other objects that may have been placed in the corridor. He paused, stunned. Yes, he remembered that power, back when his Future self had imprisoned him in that low-life criminal. He just didn't know that Sylar had taken it. And he knew what that must have meant.

Danko slid along the floor, hitting the wall again before pulling himself back up to his feet, "Whatever happens during the experiments, there are bound to be complications that lead to a loss of the patient. You're in the medical profession. You of all people should realise in order to successfully heal someone, there's going to be a few losses on the way." He should've sounded like he was making these excuses in order to support his actions but his tone suggested he couldn't care less whether he got Peter's approval or not.

"_You _are not healing people. You're taking away who they are. _Who _gives _you _the right to play God?" barked Peter angrily. He was born with abilities, it was who he was. It was who he wanted to be. All this time of searching for a purpose, of longing to _be _somebody. The day he flew those days of searching were over. And now he had his powers back he was complete. There was no way in Hell he was going to let a man like Danko take it all away again.

"What gives _you_ the right to play God, Mr. Petrelli?" Danko shot back bitterly, "What makes _you _so special, that you were given these abilities and not someone else? Why do _you _deserve them?"

Peter was taken aback. He had never really stopped to ask himself those questions before. How had he been so lucky in receiving these gifts? He remembered Nathan had believed they were gifts from God, so that they could do good things and be heroes. Obviously, he had had a severe change of heart since then. Mohinder had told him it was purely genetic, that people like him had existed for years and the genetic code had been passed down through generations. He knew he was a good person, or at least, tried to be. But he never really stopped to think if he truly deserved such abilities. He focused on Danko again who stared at Peter arrogantly, as if he had achieved something.

"Just lucky I guess."

"Luck doesn't even begin to describe it," Danko smirked, stepping closer, "You're just a mutation. I would have thought someone like you would long for this kind of opportunity. To be normal, to have a normal life. Isn't that what everybody wants?"

This was something Peter had considered before. Being normal. And after going over and over the same thoughts in his head, he had decided he was tired. Tired of thinking the same dreary thoughts, tired of imagining what his life would be like if he had never received these abilities, if he had never been burdened (or blessed) with saving the world. There were a few things he would change, but he had settled on one thing: he wouldn't change what he had been through. No, this had been _his_ journey, _his_ life. Whether it had been normal or not, he wouldn't change a thing about who he was now. He looked up and returned the irritating grin,

"Not everybody."

"So normal's not good enough for you? You Petrelli's, always aiming impossibly high, wanting what you can't have. You think you're in charge of the world, that it rests in your hands. Well, let me tell you something, _Peter_. You're not as strong as you think you are and you are nowhere near as superior as you'd like to be. It's over. _You're _over."

He nodded towards the gunmen and they headed straight for him. Danko's words didn't quite satisfy Peter. But he grinned all the same. Not long ago this scenario would have gone a very different way. But now that he was practically unstoppable, he had no doubts about what would happen next.

He strained his lungs and shouted as loud as he could. Sure enough, the men had lost their sense of balance and were being propelled in to the air. Most of them lost their consciousness too, but the others seemed paralysed with fear and refused to make another move.

Furiously, Danko ordered them to get up. But no one budged. It seemed pointless, futile. Getting anywhere near the man was next to impossible. Peter was beginning to understand why Sylar found this so amusing. But instead of using it on innocent people, Peter was using it to beat the bad guys.

Another flash appeared and Peter didn't seem to recognise the bald-headed man he saw in his head. His power sure seemed interesting though…

The evil man in front of him frowned deeply as if the expression were permanently indented in to his features. Peter grinned darkly, held out a hand and bent his fingers to create a claw-like shape.

Using Danko as a literal puppet wasn't as amusing as he thought it would be, but it did give him even more of an advantage.

"You're going to evacuate this building and let _everyone _out of here. Do you understand me?" Peter asked as he approached him.

The man looked as if he were hovering in mid-air, his features hardened, his voice was rough, "You may be in control of my body, Mr. Petrelli. But you can't physically make me give the orders. Not unless you have that ability too."

That's when Peter remembered. Earlier, he was able to read Mohinder's mind. Matt's power. Surely, that meant he could manipulate minds too? But it was impossible, right? Once again, he concentrated. This kind of ability took a lot of focus. Danko looked confused,

"What are you doing? Let me go!" he snapped angrily, his eyes shut tightly closed as he tried to resist.

"_Take out your phone,_" Peter demanded, "_Tell your men to evacuate the building and let the prisoners go free. Do it. Do it now._"

The man reached for his phone with a look of fury. But somehow, he couldn't stop what he was doing, as if it were natural, like he _wanted_ to make the call. Of course, this was all against his will. But it felt like a part of his own brain was telling him to do it, that he wasn't able to resist.

Peter stood patiently. It would finally be over. He wasn't even wasting time figuring out how it was possible to have Sylar's abilities _and _Matt's at the same time. On some level, he didn't even care. Maybe it was like Mohinder said-it was his old power resurfacing, his real DNA kicking in. Or maybe, he was wrong. At that moment, it wasn't important. He watched as Danko raised the phone to his dry lips.

_One phone call and it will all be over_.

How horribly wrong a person can be.

Something rock hard had hit him over the head and Peter tumbled painfully to the floor. He shook his throbbing head and looked above at the blurred image. It looked like one of the previous men from before: the one with the phone that Luke had attacked. He was back, and he wasn't happy. He seemed to have lost his gun and was now armed with a large metal bar with a sharp end. This wasn't good. The man pounded him with the weapon, causing Peter to cry out in agony. The hard metal collided with his leg and even though no permanent, or even temporary, damage would be done, Peter was sure he would be feeling the soreness of that for a while. The man raised the weapon and attempted a third strike but Peter lifted his arm and caught the metal in mid-swing. He was surprised at what strength he had, but even more surprising was what happened to the weapon itself. They all watched with amazement as the dull metal object transformed in to a gleaming bar of gold.

Now this, Peter didn't remember _anyone _having. Which was probably why he wasn't able to control it. His attacker seemed stunned for a second, and so did he, before he felt a boot kick him over on to his stomach and the newly golden object stabbed in to the back of his head. Brutal, but necessary. It was the only thing that could kill him now.

He only struggled for a second before the life escaped from him and he remained completely still.

Perhaps he wasn't unstoppable after all.

~*~

Tracy stared at the ice statue in front of her. Had she really killed this man, Samson Gray? He only seemed to be encased in the frozen liquid, which prompted Tracy to wonder: could a man survive something like this? She had gradually grown to accept she had killed, but she hadn't intended to make a habit of it. Granted, Peter needed her help and she did what she could. But sometimes it was hard to fully accept what she was capable of. The man's icy features glared back at her as he stood in a vicious, frozen stance. Maybe it was best he was like this. He wasn't a good man, and his intentions were no better. Still, it was strange to see this man, who had not long ago been alive and kicking (and trying to kill his son), now a paralysed life-sized ice cube.

Matt called her name as he tried to help the wounded people Sylar had attacked during his attempt to kill Tracy. Sylar hadn't been here when they returned so Matt had warned her to keep an eye out. He knew all too well, Sylar could be ten times more dangerous when he had lost his temper. He still had the scars across his torso from when he had taken those bullets the day Peter 'exploded' over New York City. He couldn't remember much about that night, perhaps he should be thankful for that.

Tracy walked towards him, passing an unconscious Nathan in one of the nearby cots. Her idea. That way they couldn't expect anymore interruptions from him _or_ his attempts to manipulate them. That and she secretly enjoyed putting him in the position she had been in. Strapped down to a table, drugged, weakened, humiliated. She smirked slightly as she passed him and approached Matt who told her they should probably start to wake up the other prisoners and attempt to explain this insane situation to them. She nodded and turned to see Mohinder and Luke at the door with four other confused and distressed looking people

"Matt!" Mohinder smiled at the sight of his friend, "What are you doing here? I thought you got away."

"I did. I came here to help," Matt stood and looked at Mohinder as if he were foolish to question his presence here. Of course he came back! What kind of friend did Mohinder consider him to be?

Mohinder only grinned, happy to be reunited with part of his original team. He glanced at Tracy who eyed him and the people behind him with curiosity, "Tracy?"

"Nice to see you again, Mohinder," she smiled a half-smile, "Who are your friends?"

The Indian man turned to glance at the newcomers, remembering, "Ah, they were in the cells outside," he quickly explained, "Come in," he told them, "We'll explain everything shortly. You just need to stay here where it's safe. They won't hurt you if we're all together."

"Bull crap," Luke mumbled, clutching at his bloody arm as the people he arrived with slowly wandered past him to find somewhere to sit or stand, "Anyone got any painkillers? I'm starting to wish I never came on this trip."

"Yes, I feel a bit like that too," Mohinder muttered under his breath, "Tracy, can you find something to tie around his wound? It's probably best he keeps pressure on it for now."

She looked slightly stunned, as if the idea of asking her to do something like that was ridiculous. But after a few seconds, she gave in and with a roll of the eyes, she grabbed Luke by the other arm and they headed off in to the other direction.

"Mohinder, what is going on?" Matt whispered to him as he pulled him in to the corner.

"Funny, I was about to ask you the same question."

"No, I mean where's Peter? And Claire? I thought after Sylar had confronted his father, he was going to go and get her."

Mohinder nodded regretfully, "It wasn't Claire. He found me instead. And some others. We bumped in to that man. Danko, was it? Last I saw, they were ready to tear each other to pieces. But we shouldn't worry, he has his abilities back."

"Sylar finally gave him his abilities? That's fantastic!"

He nodded, "Where is Sylar?" Mohinder glanced around as if expecting to see the man leant against the wall with his arms crossed, hating helping them out as usual. But something else caught his eye. Something that looked very much like a human ice sculpture, "And what," he began with wide eyes, "is _that_?"

Matt's eyes followed Mohinder's until they fell upon the giant ice figure, "Ah," he started, "I think that's Sylar's father. Don't ask. I tried not to."

Mohinder stared at Matt expectantly with keen interest and Matt knew he would have to repeat to his friend everything he knew: everything Tracy had told him about Peter's plans, about running in to Nathan, about Daphne, about freezing Samson Gray, about Sylar attacking Tracy and then Peter jumping in at the last minute to rescue her with his new (or old) abilities.

Mohinder was a mixture of smiles and frowns as he listened to Matt. He was relieved to hear about Daphne but something troubled him. Peter thought he was unstoppable. But Sylar wasn't immune to blows to the head, or beatings (as he well knew from past experiences), or being stabbed in the right spot to prevent him from regenerating. If there was a chance Sylar could be taken down, if only for a minute or two, so could Peter. And suddenly, he didn't trust that his friend's safety should be one of the least thing's on his mind. And he would be right.

~*~

A soft muttering could be heard in the unsettling darkness as Peter found himself returning to life once again,

"Don't drug him yet. He needs to regenerate first."

It felt like swimming to the surface after having hit the bottom of the ocean. The darkness, the sudden pressure on your lungs as you struggle to breath. No oxygen. Returning to life was like taking that first deep breath of air once you tear your way through the water and reach the top to the fresh oxygen. He could feel the torn skin on his neck repair itself and his eyes snapped open, vision gradually blurring in to focus.

Danko's cold, frowning image was not the first thing you'd want to see after returning from the dead. But, unfortunately for Peter, he had no choice.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Mr. Petrelli," the frown disappeared for a moment and was replaced with a sinister smile.

Peter took in his surroundings and realised he wasn't in that corridor anymore. He was in a dark room, like a prison cell and underneath him was a rock hard bench or table. His wrists were bound, as were his legs. He was beginning to get tired of being in this sort of situation. He struggled but his arms were held down so tight, he could barely move. That's when Danko gave the nod for the drug to be allowed in to his system. One man held his head in place while another set it up for him to inhale. The effects were fast.

"You killed me," he bit down hard on his lip. This wasn't supposed to be how this went. He had imagined a very different situation, preferably where Peter was the one smirking at his triumph over defeating Danko, not the other way around.

"I expect it won't be the first time," Danko grinned darkly, "You're a very…_interesting_ subject, Peter. And when we do start the experiments, I can guarantee, you shall be the first one we test."

"No," he mumbled, the effects of the drug making him drowsy, "I won't be your lab rat. I won't let you experiment on me, or anyone else."

"I'm afraid you don't have the choice. You're in a very different position now and I have my men ready to take down whoever's upstairs. Soon they're going to wish you never set them free."

"It doesn't have to be this way."

"Of course you would say that. The fact is, it _is_ this way_._ And it's going to stay that way," Danko glared at him momentarily, "I'm waiting for your cliché line. '_You're not going to get away with this_.' Isn't that what all you wannabe hero-types say?"

"Goes without saying," Peter muttered, staring at him hatefully.

"I'm going to love proving you wrong," the smile sketched it's way across his face for another moment before he stepped towards the door and nodded at the guard again, "Well, anyway, if you haven't noticed we have a bit of a situation going on at the moment and I am going to have to deal with it. Your brother seems to be missing and Bennet's ran home to check on his precious little family," he noted the look of relief on the other man's face, "Personal insecurities over actual important problems such as a security breach-very unprofessional, I know. But to my disagreement, he was told he could go anyway," he complained, "Still, it's understandable. I suppose he wouldn't want anything happening to that beautiful daughter of his. It would be a shame if she got involved in this mess, wouldn't it? Though I don't see how she's any different to any of the others we have here. It's just wrong to make exceptions, don't you think?" he smirked, amused with himself and Peter's reaction.

Although he felt so tired he could rest his eyes and drift off to unconsciousness, the anger caused by Danko's words gave him enough energy to snap back furiously, "Leave Claire out of this!" She didn't deserve any of this. She was too young, too innocent. And if Danko's threats had any meaning, it would mean the future he had been told about was a step closer to becoming true. _They find Claire, _he can hear his older form reveal to him in his head, _they find a way to….she couldn't heal. They kill her. _It made him think. Only a monster could be capable of this. He knew Nathan and Noah didn't want Claire involved in this anyway. That just left Danko, who would undoubtedly use his twisted manipulated ways to get Claire and experiment on her like a helpless lab animal. "This is insane," he spat, "you're a joke. This whole thing is just one huge ridiculous joke," he almost found himself laughing bitterly, but he was too weak and it turned in to a half-smirk.

"Your brother doesn't seem to think so."

"My brother is a hypocrite," he growled, "Nathan's been lying to you this whole time."

Now, Danko seemed interested. He stepped closer. Ever since they first started working together, he had sensed something wasn't quite right with Nathan. He couldn't trust him and he didn't like him. He got the unsettling feeling that Nathan _had_ been lying to him about something. That he was hiding something that Danko could never know. But Nathan underestimated Danko. He wasn't stupid, he knew something was going on. And he _would _find out what.

Peter seemed triumphant at capturing Danko's attention. Maybe if he knew the truth about Nathan, he would just see how ridiculous this entire idea was, "You really believed his story? How he's just the odd one out of all of us? He has the ability to fly. He's just like any of us," he breathed deeply, "he's ashamed, that's all. He doesn't get it. He doesn't get that it can be a good thing. But he _is_ one of your so called mutations," he smiled slightly, "you've been taking orders from a self-absorbed hypocrite, the very sort of person you'd have locked up."

The older man stood perfectly still, almost stunned by the information. His eyes stopped focusing on Peter as his mind drifted off in to his own thoughts. This would make sense, perfect sense. It explained many things about the older Petrelli's behaviour. But could he trust Peter was telling the truth?

"Are you lying to me?" Danko glared, baring his teeth.

"No," Peter responded, his voice almost a whisper, "Ask him. _Make _him show you. He's been playing you all along."

His frown was as concrete as ever as he took a step backwards and placed a hand on the door handle to leave, "Goodbye, Peter," he muttered, shutting the heavy metal door and leaving him in darkness.


	8. Chapter 8

_Hey, folks. That's right, after months and months I'm finally updating. I never actually stopped doing the story so it's not abandoned, I try and write a bit every night. It's just going rather slowly and because this is getting very near the end I want to make sure everything is alright to upload and I don't need to change anything. In this chapter, it looks like the future Peter glimpsed at is already starting to come true as a deal takes place and Danko is one step closer to declaring war on the Specials. I'd be surprised if I still have any readers, lol, but to anyone who's stuck around with me during this, thank you and I hope you like this. _

_Jemma_

**Chapter Eight. **

_**Emile Danko**_

**Building 26, Present Day.**

Dozens of eyes fixed on to him as Danko made his way up the stairs and past the many guards that had just recently surrounded themselves around the room full of fugitives.

"Waiting for your orders, sir," one of them told him as he approached the closed double doors from a safe distance.

Danko raised his head and licked his dry lips, cold eyes glaring through the door and trying to focus on the creatures inside. He liked to be in control and soon he would use whatever power he had to regain that control and put all those prisoners back where they belonged. He was put on a mission, and he intended to complete it.

Not moments later and the man nodded his head at the tall guard closest to the door. The guard nodded back, took a deep breath, and swung the door open. Everyone instinctively raised their weapons and pointed them in to the room. None of them were prepared for the sight in front of them.

Danko's face turned a deep shade of red and his sharp teeth clenched together as he forced his way in to the room only to find it was completely empty. He looked around him furiously. This couldn't be possible!

"Where are they?" he demanded angrily, expecting someone to give him a straightforward answer, "How could they have escaped? We had people watching this area!"

The guards stared at him blankly. They were just as confused as him. Danko cursed under his breath and ordered that they search the entire building. They couldn't be far. Where could two or three dozen people be hiding in a place like this anyway?

His attention was caught by something else - the room wasn't empty after all. He stormed towards the unconscious Nathan Petrelli and shook him awake furiously, pulling the tubes away and shouting at him.

Nathan wasn't sure what was happening at first, his mind and vision too hazy to figure out what was going on. But it wasn't until he had sat up straight and could see Danko's red face glaring at him that he remembered how he had gotten there.

The incompetent fool! Only an idiot could let his guard down and let himself fall in to this kind of situation. This sort of thing must run in the family, Danko thought to himself as he demanded an explanation from the Senator.

Unbeknownst to them, as Nathan attempted to explain himself, Tracy was stood inches away. So was Luke, and Mohinder, and Matt. In fact, the room was filled with the same people as it was before. They just couldn't be seen.

A man who called himself The Illusionist was stood in the centre of the room, concentrating hard. He could create large illusions and his current one involved making it seem like the room was empty when it wasn't. Mohinder watched him closely as his face showed obvious agitation. He was loosing focus. He nudged Matt and Tracy and told them he would create a distraction. He was planning to go back for Peter anyway. It had been too long and he was obviously no longer battling with Danko. This way, he might be able to lure most of the guards away and make the 'illusion' easier for the other man to continue.

The hard part was being able to lose the guards once he was spotted. Unlike Peter, Mohinder _knew _he wasn't indestructible. He could probably hold them off for a while, but what if he was shot? He looked thoughtfully at the exit by Danko and Nathan and then looked across the other side of the room to the second door.

"You trust these people too much. You have to accept they're not your friends anymore, they're not your family! They are the targets, the enemy."

"Do not lecture me, Danko. I know full well the relationships I once had with these people are irrelevant now," Nathan retorted, but he was interrupted as they noticed one of the doors swing open by itself. Nathan's bewildered expression suddenly snapped in to realisation. He recognised this, "They're invisible!" he yelled, "Go after them!"

Danko stared at Nathan. Invisible? He glanced suspiciously around the room, head slowly turning from side to side, eyes narrowed as if concentrating hard. An unseen Matt held his breath as the oblivious Danko looked right at him. Fortunately, Danko turned his attention back to Nathan as the rest of the men made their way out of the exit and after a man they couldn't even see.

The older man swallowed before speaking. Perhaps this wasn't the best time to bring up such a thing, but if Nathan was hiding something from him, Danko intended to find out what it was as soon as possible. He never liked being played as the fool and for some reason he found himself sensing some truth in the younger brother's words, "Senator, I need to talk to you. Would you come with me?"

Confused, Nathan stared at the other man cautiously for a moment, but nodded and followed the man out of the room.

They didn't notice the invisible Indian man make his way out behind them moments later.

Danko closed the office door behind Nathan and stared at him with a solemn frown. Nathan returned the scowl and asked him what their spontaneous meeting was for.

"You've been hiding something from me," Danko muttered in a low voice, "and I think I know what it is."

"Don't be ridiculous," scoffed Nathan, "Perhaps we have our differences but it doesn't mean I'm hiding anything from you."

"I'm not an idiot. I always sensed that there was something not quite right about you. It was instinct."

"What are you talking about?" Nathan demanded, though his heart unwillingly was increasing in speed.

"Your whole family has abilities," Danko approached him closer with a threatening look, "And you want me to believe that, by pure chance, you're the odd one out?"

Nathan narrowed his eyes at him cautiously. If he wasn't careful, Danko would soon know the truth about everything. And then he'd be paying the price. He'd become exactly like the people they were hunting, "Isn't it by pure chance anyway that one person has such abilities and another person doesn't?"

He hadn't told Danko that abilities could be given synthetically, like his. Only that he knew the gene could be modified and altered so that a person's so-called 'power' could be 'turned off'. Nathan was good at hiding emotion, so he tried to avoid his anxiety from exposing him at all costs. The way Danko was staring at him seemed to suggest he could see a lot more than just the surface of a person. It was almost as if he was reading him, as if that instinct of his was more accurate then Nathan had hoped.

Danko shook his head at the comment, believing his words to be a trivial way of preventing the truth, "Not just pure chance," he muttered, "You said that these abilities come from a person's genes. That means they're passed down from generation to generation," he began to walk from one side of the room to the other, cold eyes not leaving Nathan's, "Mommy and daddy had these…._mutations _in their DNA. So does baby brother. And so it just decided to skip big brother Nathan?" he asked scornfully.

"Don't forget who you're talking to, Danko," Nathan replied with clenched teeth, "Or your place here. Your job is to get these people off the streets and stop them endangering others, not question me. I don't have to prove anything to you."

Danko dropped his eyes for a moment, smiling, stepping back gently before raising his handgun, "Except that you can fly."

Nathan stumbled back, hands pointed to the ceiling as his expression fell, "What are you doing?"

"Getting the truth," the gun clicked, "Now fly, or I'll shoot."

"Are you out of your mind?" Nathan almost yelled.

"No, but you're almost out of time," Danko frowned, "I know you have an ability. Now I'm telling you to show me it or I'll pull the trigger."

Nathan's heart beat wildly. How did Danko know this? Had he seen him? Had someone told him? What now? The man was acting like a lunatic!

"If you kill me, you'll have to come up with a pretty good story to explain my death. They'll have experts on the case. It'll only be a matter of time before you're found out," he threatened, "You'd probably be the prime suspect," Nathan narrowed his eyes, watching the man carefully.

Danko lowered his gun slightly in thought. He grimaced, "Fine." Nathan breathed a silent sigh of relief and dropped his arms back to the sides, "Then I'll just kill your brother."

Nathan swallowed hard, "Peter?"

"We caught him not long ago. Even with all those abilities he's not as unstoppable as he'd like to be."

Nathan stared at him. He hadn't had a chance to rediscover what Peter's new abilities were. Last time he had asked, his brother wasn't enthusiastic about giving him a clear answer. But in the end, he was predictable. Travelling here with Sylar, the one person who had the many abilities Peter once had, or would want? Peter wouldn't bring him along just to cause mindless violence and disrupt Nathan's plans. He knew Peter would want to be the hero, that was his one desire _and_ his weakness. No, he brought Sylar here for a reason. To help him be the hero. Sylar was here purely because of his abilities - abilities Peter probably intended to take, if he could.

It was typical behaviour of his baby brother. If Peter stopped this irrational obsession to save the world and rid of all evil, he would be able to open his eyes to reality. Life wasn't one big fairy tale where the good guys always won and the bad guys lost.

He wasn't sure of the details but he knew there must be some truth in his theory. Peter detested Sylar. Nathan hadn't really come face to face with the man before, but had heard of the terrible things he had done to his family and to many other innocent people. It was people like Sylar that convinced Nathan this operation was necessary. He wasn't a good person, and this is why Peter wouldn't bring him along unless he wanted something. His powers.

So, if Peter had already taken Sylar's abilities and was now contained in one of the prisoner's cells, where was Sylar?

"That's what we don't know," Danko answered with a serious tone when Nathan asked this aloud, "But you should be more concerned about Peter."

That's right; Danko was using Peter against him. He knew he cared for his safety just as much as Nathan valued his privacy. But if Peter, by some unthinkable method, did manage to absorb Sylar's abilities, surely he would be able to regenerate? He had Claire's power. He couldn't be killed, could he?

"Even if he did have that ability, a bullet lodged in the brain would make it very hard for it to repair itself," Danko smirked, "If that's what you're thinking. Peter would die instantly, and it would take a lot of hard work to delicately find and remove that bullet. Next to impossible, you might say. A sad waste of a test subject, I know. But if it has to be done…"

Nathan felt his knuckles itch and his heart pound furiously in his chest. Suddenly he resented how much knowledge Danko had obtained about how these powers work. Regrettably, most of the information had been from Nathan himself.

"It's your choice, Senator. Tell me the truth or your brother dies."

"You wouldn't waste the opportunity to have him examined. He might be the key to turning these powers off."

"Turning them off is not part of my area. Like you said, my job is to keep them off the streets. Now, it's pretty simple. Just tell me what I want to hear and all of this could be avoided."

It felt like the longest minute that had ever passed. Nathan bit the inside of his cheek with frustration. There was a chance Danko was bluffing, but he couldn't take that risk. Even though he and Peter hadn't spoken properly in a long time, he couldn't help loving him. And he would never forgive himself if he was ever harmed. There _was_ no choice, Danko was wrong about that. He already knew the truth, whether Nathan told him or not. He questioned why he was threatening him for confirmation when he already had his suspicions but, he supposed, on some level he must enjoy putting people through such torture. He frowned and his eyes tore away and turned to the half-open blinds in the window.

"What do you want?" he mumbled, "In order for you to keep this quiet?"

Danko grinned triumphantly, the demands filling his head, "Let's make a deal, shall we?"

Nathan glanced at him and nodded solemnly, "Go on."

He crossed his arms and a sly glimmer shone in his otherwise stony eyes, "I want to take over the operation. I want to be in charge of everything."

"Not gonna happen. This is _my_ operation," he reminded him. Nathan could imagine the Hell that would be unleashed under Danko's command. Yes, he got the job done but his unhealthy motivation and insensitivity would probably mean everything would be carried out even more chaotically and inhumanely. Not only that, but he feared he would no longer be able to protect his family. At least if Nathan had the authority, he could protect the ones he loved and make sure everything was dealt with appropriately.

"Either let me take over or I'll make sure this doesn't stay within these four walls," Danko threatened dangerously, "Or do you want me to threaten your brother's life again? I can give the order for his death before you can even realise what room he's in."

His head pounded in sync with his heart beat. He couldn't let Danko take over the operation, not all by himself anyway. But he couldn't let his secret get out either. He had come close to announcing his abilities once already and he had been shot for it. Obviously, a mistake. He knew that now. He hated this _thing _that had been injected in to him as a child, to make him different, to make him anything but normal. It had made life a lot harder, it had made his job a lot harder, and as soon as the experiments were proved to be successful, Nathan would volunteer himself to be operated on so this power of his could finally be turned off. But right now, he knew he had to do something. To protect himself and to protect his family.

"Alright," he muttered, "But I still want to be part of this team, I still want to have some say in the matter. I want you to listen to my input and consider what I have to say. This was my idea and I had a system…"

"I know your system, Senator," he paused, raising his head slightly in consideration, "I'll agree to your terms. So long as I get to choose whether I accept or deny any further ideas of yours."

He nodded, "And you won't hurt Peter?"

"You have my word."

"So we have a deal?"

Danko extended his arm, "We have a deal."

Nathan scowled at him and, after what seemed like minutes, extended his hand to shake his. He wasn't sure exactly what he had gotten himself in to. He had many doubts lingering in the back of his mind. But he had no choice. This was the way things had to be. He could only hope he hadn't made a huge mistake by making this deal, "You better start by clearing up this mess," he told his companion as he stepped towards the door, referring to the couple dozen prisoners whose whereabouts were now unknown.

The older man had a frighteningly confident expression on him, "I intend to."

"Is that the last of the cameras?" Matt turned to see Tracy approaching him.

He nodded at her and glanced back to a man named Alan who had the ability to destroy or cause objects to explode just by using his mind. He was using this to rid of any other cameras that may be planted around the room. Eyes and ears everywhere, Matt thought, it's hard to escape it. They couldn't stay invisible for much longer.

The camera erupted in flames and fell to the floor in ashes, the fire disappearing as quickly as it had emerged. Matt eyed the red-haired "Illusionist" man in the centre of the room with anxiety in his eyes, "How's he doing?" he asked, observing his obvious frustration as he tried to focus all his energy and attention on his objective.

"Don't think he can last much longer," Tracy frowned, "I say we make a run for it. With him there, we can just walk straight out the front door. No one will even know."

"We can't do that," Matt replied, though he was conscious of the nervous and impatient mutterings around him, "Peter's still in the building. We can't leave without him. And there may be others too. Besides, do you think he'll be able to keep this up while we're off running around like lunatics, trying to find the nearest exit."

"I'll keep them in order," Tracy told him, and her voice was slightly threatening. But still, Matt shook his head.

"It's too risky. We'll end up being shot at. There's too many people to protect."

"Use your ability," she suggested with agitation, "You can control people with it, right?"

"I'm sorry, Tracy. I can't."

"I need to get out of here, Matt."

"I know."

She frowned and glanced around the room one more time, her fellow fugitives placed messily in all directions, some angry, some confused, some deeply upset. Then there was the ice figure that was neither happy or sad--almost lacking emotion. It was not even excessively angry. Just a sinister frowning image that appeared to be haunting her. She needed to escape. She needed to go home.

Matt followed her eyes curiously, only his gaze saw past the ice figure and continued to scan the room. He wrinkled his nose and returned his attention to Tracy, "What happened to Mohinder?"

Alert, he had to keep alert. A bearded, uniformed man clutched his gun cautiously as he scanned the stairway, searching for one of the dangerous escapee's. Danko had ordered them to find every last remaining scoundrel and lock them back up immediately. Problem was, he wasn't sure what these people were capable of, or how to stop them. He only had himself, and his gun….and his orders. He cleared his throat as he climbed half way up and quickly inspected the landing above. Nothing.

He turned to continue looking when he heard footsteps. He paused and, swallowing hard, he slowly turned back around and saw a figure, half invisible, staring back at him,

"What the-?"

The figure lunged at him with his one visible arm and sent him sprawling across the hand rail, the gun dropping on the ground beside him. Recovering, he could see the dark-skinned man watch as the rest of his body gradually became visible. This must be one of the prisoners, he thought, panicked. With that, he grabbed the gun off the floor and attempted to point it at his attacker. But, even after loosing his cover of invisibility, the man was still stronger and quicker than him and forced him to the floor as he whisked the gun away with ease and hit him over the head with it.

"Sorry about that," he said gently to the unconscious man before recollecting himself and his reason for being there. He quickly took in a breath and snuck over to the exit that lead to a corridor. Now that The Illusionist wasn't making him seem invisible anymore, stealth would have to be an important contribution to his movements. He needed to find Peter.

Keeping close to the wall, Mohinder scanned the hall for cameras or nearby guards as well as any rooms Peter may be locked in. He passed many offices and empty rooms, but he couldn't see Peter. He heard a ringing sound at the end of one the corridors and followed it cautiously. There he could see a control room with many computers, desks and television screens. Keeping to his hiding place, he peered through the open double doors and saw the many photographs on the walls. He rolled his eyes hatefully at the pictures of him and his friends, displayed on a "Most Wanted" board like common criminals. Well, by the end of today that will all be over. He'll make sure of it.

"Yes, Mr. Danko, sir. We understand that," he heard a man in a tie and moist white shirt say, "Half have already been sent to look. You do realise we're not trained to deal with this sort of thing? Yes, I know. I do realise we signed a contract. Yessir. Alright, very well," he slammed the phone down and nodded at a group of men and women beside him before muttering something to them and handing each of them a phone device and what looked like a taser weapon. They left the office and Mohinder retreated back behind the wall so as not to be seen, but he could hear the man call back to the remaining people in the office to "watch the monitors and contact us if you see anything funny".

After their departure, Mohinder crept closer to the offices and his gaze drifted towards the many monitors, the same ones the previous man must have been talking about. They displayed various parts of the building and Mohinder wandered if this was where Matt saw Daphne, and whether it was possible for him to spot Peter.

The nervous chatter from the room was distracting; it seemed the apparent disappearance of the group was successfully worrying for Danko, Nathan and their clan. He realised, however, they couldn't stay invisible for much longer - they would have to form a new plan sooner or later but Mohinder preferred to reunite the group before thinking up anymore bright ideas. He stayed low and crouched with his back against the wall, peering in to the door way beside him and scanning the many black and white monitors that exposed the different areas of the building. Many showed rooms that were empty, which must have meant there were no more prisoners left to rescue and that they were all finally together upstairs. Except one.

He wished he still had his cover of invisibility. Then he would be able to stroll right up to each monitor and have a closer look. He would just have to make do with what he had; super strength was pretty useful anyway. After a minute or so, he gave up and snuck back down the corridor, telling himself he'd just have to kick every door of the place down until he came across the right one. But it was at that exact moment he heard the two men emerge from where he just come from.

Danko, looking very happy with himself indeed, pushed open the double doors of the stairwell, a troubled looking Nathan trailing behind. The older man smirked and entered the control room with his hands raised in the air.

"Listen up," he announced to the people in the room, "from now on this is my operation and all questions will be directed to me. Senator Petrelli has given me authority to continue, therefore, what I say goes," Mohinder listened closely from his location. He wasn't sure what the sudden change was for, but it didn't sound good, "I realise we have a pretty grisly situation on our hands but I intend to fix it: all exits shall be heavily guarded - no one is to leave at any time, alright? You find any of 'em, you tell me and lock them up individually. Got that?

There was a murmur of agreement throughout the room and Danko nodded triumphantly in return, "Pass the message on," he told them, "We'll catch them"

"Alright," he heard Nathan mutter in a hostile tone, "You've got your side of the deal, now tell me where Peter is."

"As I recall, Senator," Danko mumbled in reply, "The deal involved me taking over and, in return, I agreed not to hurt your brother or reveal your secret to the world. I didn't say anything about telling you of his location."

Nathan's features hardened, his fingers piercing his palms involuntarily, "Dammit, Danko, you son-of-a-bitch, you better tell me or-"

"He's safe where he is," his companion promised him, "After all this is over, he's free to go. For now, we have bigger things to worry about."

Mohinder swallowed as he watched Nathan's head drop in defeat. Danko grinned darkly and, turning away from him, entered the room behind. With this new information, Mohinder also turned to walk away. It sounded like this nightmarish future they had all been hearing about may be becoming more and more likely.

**TBC**

_More to come soon! Sorry if takes a while. It's already written, I just want to make sure I'm happy with it. _


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

_**Peter Petrelli**_

**Building 26, Present Day**

This wasn't how it was supposed to be.

_We're not what we were. We left everything behind._

This was supposed to be different.

_They want a war, we'll give them a war._

He was supposed to be the hero.

_It's over. You're over._

Save his family, save his friends, save the many innocent people out there who were being punished for being different. He could have done it all. This is what it felt like to be wrong, to be weak; to be stripped down to nothing and be left to rot with all those falsehoods, all those hopes - shattered in to little pieces. Lying there, he felt so hopeless, so useless. He couldn't think straight, couldn't move.

He would've done anything to prevent himself becoming the person he had gotten used to seeing each week, so hurt and bitter, so angry and miserable; so guilty. This is probably where it began, the guilt of failure, the guilt of loosing the lives he had promised to save.

He could've done it, but now, it all seemed so futile. He had felt invincible when clearly, he was not. He wasn't as strong as he thought he would be. Danko was right. And he knew he was probably going to die -again. How many times, he didn't know. But it would surely happen. And he was ready for it. He was ready for the agonising tests and examinations and operations they had planned for him because he would always know, on some level, that he deserved it. Because if the future he had been told horror stories of; the stories and events he had been told repeatedly, over and over, to prevent; and he had _failed, _he most likely would.

He had been so determined before, so confident. Now he couldn't rely on some fantasy to pull him and everybody else to safety. He couldn't even rely on himself. His thoughts, so tangled, so obscure, so weak like his body as it lay limp upon the table.

There must be a way…This can't be it, can it?

He could feel his eyelids close, as if trying to keep them open was a laborious task. Finally, he allowed the heavy lids to shut and it felt like hours before he opened them again. When he awoke from what seemed to be a forced sleep, he discovered his arms were suddenly free. He felt more awake and active, as if the nap had done him a world of good. He sat up, the tube removed and lying next to a box with red zeros on it. He swallowed and looked around him. The room was still empty; nobody was here. So how was he suddenly free?

He swung his legs round and got off the table where he had been lying, rubbing the back of his neck which had been unexplainably cleaned of any dry blood. Confused, he walked over to the door and opened it; it was unlocked. He peered out first to make sure no one was standing outside.

What was going on?

The whole corridor was completely empty and he couldn't hear a sound throughout. Where was everyone? He wandered outside, rubbing his eyes and slowly making his way down the corridor. Nobody. Nothing. Looking in all directions, his heartbeat increased with his movements as the whole building, much to his confusion, appeared to be empty. There was not a soul to be seen.

Had everyone left without him? Evacuated, and simply forgot he was ever there? His heart raced and he began to call out, not caring who replied. He began to run down the endless corridor, turning every so often to check if he in fact was alone. The lights flickered.

"Mohinder? Mat?" he cried, almost racing through the building now. He burst through a door and sprinted up the stairs, "Hello? Anyone there?"

No response. His voice echoed throughout the empty space. _Hello, anyone there? _He could feel his heart beat loudly inside his chest. _Thump. Thump. Thump._ It was the only noise he could hear in the piercing silence.

"MATT?" he called, "MOHINDER?"

He approached the prisoners room and was strangely disappointed to find there was no one in there, not even strapped to those metal tables, oblivious to the world around them. He spun around, breathing heavily. It was confirmed. He was completely and utterly alone.

"_Where are you?" _he heard a rough voice whisper.

In this strange solitude, he turned to catch a glimpse of somebody on the other side of a window. His heart stopped, then he sighed as he realised he was merely looking at his own reflection.

Except, it wasn't quite his reflection. The person he was looking at was indeed familiar, but it wasn't exactly him. The figure frowned at him, a deep scar engraved across his face, dark hair sticking to his moist skin.

It wasn't him. But it was someone he might become.

Peter would have woken up with a jolt if it hadn't been for the drugs in his system. His eyes fluttered open as he realised he had been having some sort of nightmare. He breathed heavily.

He tried to talk but the clarity in his mind turned to more confusion and cloudiness. He couldn't see, couldn't speak. Couldn't even register whether he was awake or still in the nightmare. _Where are you? _echoed through his confused mind and he turned slightly in agitation. The voice in his mind sounded familiar but distant. Like a memory - a memory of someone he knew.

His fingers twitched shakily as his wrists suffocated in his shackles, leaving red marks and restraining his useless movements. His dry lips opened and closed slightly, murmuring nonsense, demanding release as if he were in a feverish haze.

_Come on. Just like before, read my mind. I'm here now, give me some indication of where you are. _

Mohinder paced the corridors frantically, watching for guards. This had worked before when Mohinder was the one imprisoned in one of these secluded rooms, but he had no idea of it's success now. He knew Peter was probably drugged and bound but he tired to have faith that his friend would at least attempt to communicate back in some way or at least take comfort in the fact that he had someone he could trust looking for him.

He ran his fingers along the wall, every now and again pressing his ear against the cold surface, listening to absent noises. He couldn't hear a thing. He kicked one of the doors open: empty.

_Come on Peter, where are you?_

The voice was fuzzy, as if interrupted by unknown static; like a picture on a television set that was too blurry or grainy to recognise. But it was definitely there - Mohinder's voice. He could recognise it even through interference. For a moment this meant nothing to him; his thoughts were too much of a mess to make sense of it, the drugs causing him to fall in to a semi-comatose. It felt as if he were only half awake, certain to lose consciousness at any moment. But the voice persisted and it seemed as though it were playing inside his own dreams.

_Where are you? Do something, anything!_

He could hear the banging outside, as distant and distorted as it seemed. But the voice seemed to give him guidance, comfort. He couldn't explain where the sudden strength came from but, doubts pushed aside, he suddenly knew what to do. He silenced his drifting thoughts and battled hard to focus his attention and feel the power pulsing through his brain. His eyes were closed, but he pictured as vividly as he could the tubes pulling slowly away from his face to allow the fresh oxygen to clear his mind. The process was slow and unsteady but, gradually, everything began to seem clearer. Sweat beaded on his forehead and he could feel the intense heat, the blood flowing through him, the ache in his brain as he dropped the tubes on the floor and he opened his eyes to darkness, black dots forming on the ceiling above him.

He took in a deep breath, mind still weary and weak, body still unable to move. But with his thoughts gradually becoming more clearer, he attempted to cry out Mohinder's name, only to blurt out a stifled whisper. He kept trying, coughing and slowly getting louder and louder, dry lips and throat desperately attempting to make noise so his friend could hear him and help set him free.

Outside, Mohinder sensed he heard a voice. He turned and looked cautiously around the corridor, "Peter?"

"Mohinder," he spoke from his prison, still turning his head feverishly, "Mohinder! I'm here." He coughed again, feeling as though he hadn't used his voice in weeks and it was a new and unpleasant experience attempting to use it again. He tried to project his voice louder, like he had done before with his newly regained power. His tired muscles ached and he yelled for freedom, despite his exhausted mind that begged him for sleep. He tried again and again, starting not to care who heard him; just as long as someone did.

It was a surprise to see the blurry figure pound its way through the door and rush over to him like a dark faceless shadow. He untied the man and slapped him awake.

"Peter, it's me. I'm going to get you out of here. Wake up."

Peter slowly opened his eyes to see Mohinder's anxious face frowning with concern above him. He smiled weakly, a sudden relief washing over him, "About time," Peter teased him, grinning through the confusion as his mind slowly returned to him. Mohinder's presence reminded him how he wasn't alone here. In his dream he had been so alone, so afraid. It was a relief to see he had support, even in an insane plan like this. It was stupid to fight Danko by himself, it was stupid to think he could do this all on his own. His friends had helped him get here and had stuck with him since the beginning. He couldn't let them down now, he couldn't disregard them. They could do this together. They could do this.

Mohinder gently helped him up, and he swayed slightly, regaining balance. The man had obviously been drugged and his mind was fighting to return to normality.

"Listen to me, Peter. We have to get back to the others and get out of here. Now this was your idea and we're all at risk. We need your help."

It took a few seconds for Peter's gaze to settle on Mohinder's. His body stopped swaying and he could finally focus his thoughts on what was important. He nodded at his Indian friend, "Okay. I'm okay. Let's go." He pulled himself up and wiped his eyes, "I think you're right, you know. About my ability. I can't explain it but it's like it's still there - it has to be."

"I told you," Mohinder replied, continuing to help his friend up, "Another reason why you should listen to me more often."

"I know," Peter smiled apologetically. He reached through the darkness and headed towards the light from the gap in the door. Opening it, he and Mohinder poked their heads out to see if it was safe. They quickly retreated as a frantic and rather frustrated Nathan emerged from the other side of the corridor. He disappeared as quickly as he came, and the two made their quick escape in to the rest of the eerily empty hall.

Nathan marched down the corridor and noticed one of the guards standing next to one of the cell doors, speaking in to a radio attached to his uniform. He noticed the Senator approaching him and nodded him a respectable greeting. Nathan pointed at him, "You! Open this door!"

He was hesitant, "I'm sorry, sir. Mr. Danko gave specific orders not to let you inside any of the prisoner's cells."

"This is not just a prisoner I want to see, it's my brother," snapped Nathan, biting hard on his lower-lip, "Do you have any idea who you're talking to?"

"Yes, Senator. I'm sorry," the blue-eyed young man averted his gaze from Nathan's cold-eyed glare.

"Do you have family?" he questioned, "A brother? A wife, kids?"

"A wife and two daughters, sir," the man told him in a quiet voice, glancing at him.

"And how would you like it if I didn't let you see _them_?" threatened Nathan, "If you don't let me in these rooms to see my brother then I'll arrange for you to have a similar treatment."

The young man swallowed hard, sighed and gave in, presenting the keys and unlocking the door. Nathan watched with a guilty triumph. His threats were harsh, but it needed to be done. These idiots would follow every word Danko said now - none of them could be trusted. The door swung open and the Senator was overwhelmed as he stepped inside, his eyes wide with a stunned sense of bewilderment and alarm as he looked around him and at the large, distinctive sketch on the wall. The figures were messy but distinguishable; a short haired man in a suit was crying over the body of a smaller man, pale-faced and lying lifeless in a horrifyingly large pool of blood, the only aspect of the drawing that was in colour. He was dying.

Nathan took a step back. He recognised the figures; they looked like himself and Peter, but different somehow. Older? Darker. It was in the eyes, the colours, the scene of his lifeless brother lying limp in his arms as he watched helplessly. His attention turned to the giant red lettering above which repeated across the remainder of the wall: _Nathan Petrelli will end us all. Nathan Petrelli will end us all, _over and over and over. He felt nauseous, his heart racing at the sight. Was that really him? And was that really his younger brother lying lifeless in his arms? Was this really true? And the main question that bothered Nathan at that moment: who in the world could have done this?

He stormed outside to confront the guard who jumped at his abruptness,

"Who's room was this?" he demanded, heart thumping in his chest.

The guard frowned, "I'm sorry, sir, but-"

"Don't play games with me," growled Nathan, sick of the treatment he had been receiving, "I want a straight answer. Who did these drawings?" he added anxiously.

"I don't know," the other man answered with frustration, "That's the truth. I didn't see anybody come in or out of this room; it must have been like this before I got here."

Sweeping a hand through his hair, Nathan peered back in to the room at the disturbing drawing, thoughts swimming through his mind and causing his head to pound with an aching pain. Was he being presented a glimpse of the future; a future where Peter dies? Where _many _people die purely because of his own actions? What kind of future had he begun to mould for the world? Even if this wasn't the work of a psychic, whoever made the drawing thought that Nathan was going to be responsible for a lot of grief in the near future. And the worst of it? They would be right.

"An Illusionist? How long do you think he can continue this illusion?" questioned Peter as Mohinder described what he had missed.

"I'm not sure but it won't be long until they figure it out," he answered, looking over at him as they reached the stairwell, "Everyone's scared and confused. We should talk to them, finally explain what's going on."

"Right," they began to climb up when Peter looked over at Mohinder and softened his expression, "Thanks for coming back for me, Mohinder."

Mohinder merely smiled back at him, pausing momentarily before turning his head to face two uniformed men with guns. Another appeared in front of them at the top of the stairs. They shared a quick glance. _Not again._ A shot was fired, but Peter swept what seemed to be a bullet in to the wall beside them, causing a hole to form in the plaster. Mohinder fought off the attackers from behind as one charged for them. He was quickly dealt with by a sharp kick in the chest, which sent him flying in to the wall behind. He wouldn't recover too quickly from that. The shooter from in front charged forward with his weapon whilst the man from behind attempted to knock one of them out with the bottom of his own gun. Mohinder leapt towards him and punched him in the face. Peter watched the fight commence, catching his breath before remembering the guard in front of him and throwing out his arm, commanding him to stop and put down his gun.

He obeyed and placed his gun on the floor. Peter picked it up cautiously and emptied the bullets inside, inspecting them before tossing the empty weapon back on to the ground. He turned around to witness Mohinder forcing the man against the wall, his arm dangerously close to his neck. The man struggled but to no prevail; he was stuck.

"Mohinder," Peter spoke, reminding the man of his own strength. He could break that man's neck as easily as snapping a twig. Mohinder, realising, softened slightly and stepped back as the guard watched them in fear, back still firmly pressed against the wall.

"You going to kill me?" he asked, voice shaking slightly.

Peter stared at him with disdain, "No, we're not going to kill you. Any of you." Instead, he focussed his attention on the three men and used his mind to tell them to leave, "Go to one of the cells downstairs," he told them as all three slowly stood together in a group. He'd never done this before with three people, but now his mind was strangely clear. His brain was no longer clouded with drugs and he felt strong again. He continued, "Lock yourselves inside it and _don't_ come out. If anyone tries to contact you, don't answer. Go."

They disappeared out the door and Mohinder looked at Peter in relief, wiping his tired eyes with the back of his hand. Peter stared solemnly at Mohinder,

"Those were bullets. Looks like they're shooting to kill now," he muttered, presenting the handful of shells to his friend.

Mohinder frowned deeply, eyes watching the ugly shells as he remembered back to what he had heard earlier. Danko was in charge now and his cold approach to the situation was becoming painfully obvious, "There's something else you should know, Peter."

His companion listened intently as Mohinder revealed to him the brief discussion he had overheard between his brother and their new-found enemy. To begin with, he appeared angered at Nathan's selfish actions - until he heard the rest of what Mohinder had to say. Upon hearing that, he took a step back and dropped his eyes to the floor as if in a guilt-ridden trance, "This is my fault," he murmured, "I told Danko about Nathan."

Mohinder stared at him, "Why did you do that?"

"I don't know, I wasn't thinking straight!" exclaimed Peter, "I couldn't…I was angry at Nathan. I wanted to hurt him like he had hurt us. I just wanted him to stop," he sighed, "I wanted this to stop," he dropped his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with frustration, "I didn't think this would happen," he swallowed his nauseous feeling, "…he was trying to protect me."

"He's also the one that wanted to send you here in the first place. He's conflicted. But at least with him in charge we'd have a better chance at changing all of this. I'm sure there's some part of Nathan that still holds human emotion. Now Danko on the other hand - he's seems a monster to me. Just look at what he's done to you - what he's _going_ to do to all of us."

Peter knew there had to be some part of Nathan that still cared for his family. His anxiety for Peter's safety had always been his weakness. Even when he was trying to be the villain of the situation, he always cared. He supposed this was no exception. Now he'd made this ridiculous deal and it was all Peter's fault - firstly for revealing Nathan's secret to Danko and secondly, for playing a vital part in Danko's threats in order to gain full control. He knew just how to manipulate Nathan and threatening Peter's life was one of the only threats Nathan would give in to. That and revealing his secret to the public, which, in Nathan's mind, would ultimately destroy him. It was probably logical, thought Peter, seeing as having these powers often caused more trouble then they prevented. Still, being exposed as one of the so-called _mutations_ they're supposed to be hunting more than likely would end badly for a lot of people - even if he did deserve it - because Mohinder was right, and that pained him to no end; that between Danko and Nathan, Nathan would be the easiest to confront. Now Danko was the one with full control - looks like their confrontation with him wasn't over yet.

"Look, I know everyone's scared," Matt shifted uncomfortably as he addressed the crowd around him. He had finally gained everyone's attention - with Tracy's help - and could finally explain the situation as best he could. He couldn't have waited any longer. If Mohinder had disappeared to save Peter, he was certainly taking his time. It wouldn't be long before the morons outside realised they were simply hiding. He could tell they were suspicious - that's why there were so many still out there. It was one of the reasons why nobody else had dared step foot outside, "It's just important to remain calm and listen to what I have to say," the crowd mumbled nervously but kept quiet enough for Matt's voice to be loud enough to be heard, "If you woke up here, you're probably wandering why."

"Damn right we are!" One of the men in the crowd called out, "What's going on, man?"

"Quiet - it's about our abilities!" a woman hissed.

"Our what?"

"Hey!" warned Tracy, her arms crossed in a strict manner as she stood close to Matt, "Are you going to listen to what he has to say or do I have to make you listen?"

They were quiet after that. Matt nodded gratefully towards Tracy and continued his speech, "You may or may not be aware…" he paused, considering how to approach the matter, "that the people in this room aren't completely normal people."

The mumblings suddenly got louder. It was clear to see that some of the people here had no idea what they were capable of, and others already knew or suspected they had some kind of ability.

"It's because you're different," Matt spoke up above them, and they quietened again, "We all are. We all have different abilities. Mind-reading, telekinesis, flight, and probably hundreds more, most of which I can't even think of right now," he stifled a quick laugh before returning back to the seriousness of the situation, "The reason you're here is because _they_ know too," his eyes pointed to the doors, referring to the men outside, "They captured you, drugged you."

"But why?" he heard a stunned voice ask from the crowd.

"Would you mind keeping it down?" complained the red-head who stood at the back of the crowd, eyes closed, "Trying to make it look like 20-something people are invisible is kind of exhausting."

"You're doing great," Matt told him before lowering the volume of his voice to answer the previous question, "We think they want to experiment on us. Learn more about us, stop us from being who we are, if they can," Matt announced with a hint of anger in his voice, "They're wrong. We are who we are," he swallowed back the fury, "A group of us came here to stop this. To set you all free and take down who's in charge ."

More worried mumblings could be heard and Matt exchanged a concerned glance with Tracy, hoping he had made the right decision in trying to explain the situation to these people. She looked back at him with much the same expression.

Outside, a man in uniform stood close to the door with concern. He raised the radio to his lips and tried to contact Mr. Danko, but was only answered with static, "Hello? Sir?" _Useless piece of crap, _he thought to himself, giving up and beginning to place the radio back on his belt.

"_This is Nathan Petrelli. I can hear you_," answered a voice suddenly.

Senator Petrelli? The man considered ignoring his response since Danko had demanded all findings should be reported to him first. But he seemed insistent for a reply as he spoke again, asking what was wrong. The man was not only hesitant for defying Danko's orders but also for the ludicrousness of what he was about to report.

"_What is it?" _the Senator's strict voice ordered.

"It's the prisoner's room, sir," he swallowed, "No one's in there but…I can hear voices."

"What?" Nathan asked, holding the device up close to his ear. Had he heard correctly? "What do you mean, _voices_?"

"Well, it's the strangest thing, sir. The room is empty, but I'm sure I can hear someone speaking. I'm sure of it. It's like they're still in there but…not."

Nathan lowered the radio in sudden realisation, "They're still there," he mumbled to himself slowly. Having the room searched had done no good, they were obviously organised with someone who had an ability to make it look like everyone in the entire room was invisible. But who would have an ability so powerful? He wasn't sure how, but Nathan had learnt to never underestimate these powers. They had obviously found some method for the deception, "I'm on my way," he announced, "In the mean time do exactly as I say.."

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10 **

_**Peter Petrelli and Mohinder Suresh**_

**Building 26, Present Day**

The hallway eventually seemed to become more familiar as they reached the top and headed towards the room of prisoners. The lights were back on now, though they were very dim. A number of guards stood outside, on the look out for, as ludicrous as it sounded, invisible escapees.

"Think you can control this many?" Mohinder asked as they hid behind the pale wall.

"As much as I'd like to, I don't think I can. We'll have to do this the hard way."

Mohinder nodded solemnly, a frown spreading across his face. He spotted one of the guards with a canister of some sort, heading towards the entrance of the room where a couple of other armed men were standing. He nudged Peter, "Is that what I think it is?"

Peter stood with alarm and tensed, "We've got to go!"

The two men sprang up, Mohinder literally jumping up and kicking one of the men in the face. The other guards turned to face them and opened fire. Peter swiftly threw the bullets to the side with telekinesis, injuring but not killing a few of the other men. This only angered some of them. A couple of the others stood horrified and refused to fight what seemed to be an impossible fight.

Mohinder headed for the man with the canister who was momentarily distracted by the sudden outbreak. The guard was startled and, reaching for his gun, only managed to successfully pull it out of his holster before feeling an elbow whack him across the face. He fell to the floor, his gun flying and the canister rolling halfway across the floor.

"You think what you're doing is right?" Mohinder spat, "Don't you realise what you're doing to these people?" He lifted the guard up with ease and threw him in to two other men who crashed in to a wall, hitting their heads in the process. Splatters of blood remained on the white plaster and the men clutched their heads drowsily. The first guard held his own head in a bitter state.

"Whatever it is it must be a good thing if it keeps people like you off the streets," he growled, glaring at the Indian man who had attacked him.

Mohinder edged towards him, a stabbing of fury in his heart. He wasn't sure what he would've done but before he got the chance to do anything, he was interrupted by a pained grunt from his friend and the firing of bullets speeding across the room.

Peter clutched at his chest as the bullets pierced his skin, the pain settling in like red hot iron stabbing in to his flesh. The pain radiated and his knees met the hard floor below him. Mohinder looked up as the other men stood triumphantly, watching the man die. He wondered why on Earth his friend hadn't regenerated, and then had an even more horrifying thought that his regained abilities had not been permanent after all, and that Peter was in fact taking his last few breaths.

He tugged at his blood-stained shirt, groaning in what seemed to be agony before raising his head and shooting a meaningful glance at Mohinder. His expression didn't change but Mohinder then realised the purpose of what seemed to be happening. He smiled briefly before shoving one of the distracted guards beside him with such force that he ended up on the other side of the hallway, knocking in to each of the other men and causing them to fall like dominoes. Peter suddenly looked up as the metal escaped from his skin and fell to the floor. He raised both his hands and fired what seemed to be electricity from one hand and ice from the other. Whatever men remained soon fell to the floor in a, not fatal, but unstable state.

He looked at both his hands curiously, as if they'd give him an answer to what had just happened, "That's never happened before," he admitted with confusion as he flexed his fingers.

Mohinder looked up from one of the guards and stood, looking at him with fascination, "You and your powers never fail to amaze me, Peter. No wonder Danko wants to examine you so much."

"Yeah, I'd rather not let him have the chance," he muttered, gaze wandering over to the room of people they had been trying to protect. His heart raced. They both turned their attention to the metal doors which were already propped open, smoke spreading viciously within the room and outside in to the corridor. Someone had pulled the pin and thrown the canister in to the room. Inside, they could see figures emerging from what seemed like nowhere; their invisibility cover had been blown.

"Let's get them out of there," Peter told Mohinder, rushing towards the door as half-invisible individuals fought their way outside to the clean air. Mohinder covered his mouth and nose with his sleeve, grabbing people with his free arm and helping them outside in to the open corridor.

Peter held his breath and stepped inside. It looked like the smoke hadn't spread too much so there was enough time to get everyone out before anybody lost consciousness. He scanned the room whilst helping people out as fast as possible. Sylar's father remained in the centre of the room, frozen and emotionless, surrounded by smoke. He saw a wounded Luke standing by him, seeming to hesitate leaving. Grabbing him by his strong arm, Peter pulled him towards the door, ignoring the protests from the boy. One last glance around the room and he forced his way out the doors before falling in to a coughing fit.

Luke also had this reaction, his lungs involuntarily contracting as he wheezed for air. He had enough breath, however, to pull away from Peter's grip and tell him to get off of him.

Peter ignored him and concentrated on breathing in the clean air again. He glanced up at the people around him, heart gaining speed again as he tried to think of their next action. Mohinder staggered towards him, swimming through the sea of coughing people, and asked him if that was everybody. He nodded in return before feeling a hand hit his back.

"Peter. Mohinder," breathed Matt deeply, "What happened to you guys? Tracy and I have been trying to hold the fort here, before they decided to smoke us that is," he added, coughing slightly.

"We'll tell you about it later," Peter told him, "Right now I think we need to-"

Before he could finish the sentence, his mind suddenly began to spin with what seemed like an intense speed; emotions and images travelled through his body as if he were just a mere vessel for them. He felt faint and stumbled backwards, Matt catching him before he could lose balance altogether.

"Peter, what's wrong?"

He knew this powerful sensation, it was a familiar feeling. But this time it was stronger then before, he didn't even have to try to feel the power surging through his body. His mind flashed and buzzed, blurred and presented him with emotions he hadn't previously been feeling and images he wasn't used to seeing, yet felt as if each face he saw had a special connection with him. He sensed their fear and rage, heard their troubled thoughts, and felt each new ability fill him with strange, new feelings . His friends stared in awe as his weakened form shook involuntarily, his eyes glazing over with a peculiar grey colour, blinding him from reality, and causing many other psychological happenings Matt and Mohinder couldn't possibly be aware of.

The confusion continued to swirl throughout his mind, clouding whatever little sense and awareness was left. He couldn't even be sure what new ability he was even demonstrating at the time. He felt overwhelmed, sick. But the occurrence was fortunately short-lived. He opened his eyes which had now returned to a soft, regular dark brown and found he had battled his way to the ground where both of his friends had grabbed his arms and pinned him down as if to prevent him from thrashing about in some sort of fit. He blinked and quickly sprang to his feet with a sudden energy.

"Are you alright?" Matt asked him, arms out ready as if Peter was likely to take another fall.

"It's everyone's abilities, isn't it?" Mohinder questioned him eagerly, "You absorbed them all with your old power. I can see how it must have been overwhelming," he added, gazing around the busy corridor of anxious people, some staring at Peter's sudden odd behaviour and some ignoring it completely.

Matt frowned, following Mohinder's gaze, "Kinda makes me grateful I can connect to people's thoughts and not anything else."

Peter wiped his eyes with his sleeve and shook his head, "Believe me, it's not all fun. I'm fine…now. I just didn't expect it, that's all."

He steadied his balance and Matt and Mohinder both withdrew their hands which had previously aided him. He took in a breath and immediately felt himself return to normality. Not only that, but he decided he now felt even better. Not invincible, he had learnt his lesson and he would teach it to any who would listen. But he smiled at his worried companions and assured them he would be fine, and once he had come to get used to whatever new abilities he now possessed, he would be even better.

Looking around the room, he wasn't entirely sure he wanted _this _many abilities. That is, if he was correct in assuming he had absorbed the majority. He wasn't even aware of what he could do and how to use these new abilities. It was as if he were starting again, with all these confusing new powers, wandering around trying to save the world when he wasn't even certain what he was capable of. He had no teacher to (literally) knock some sense in to him this time, and teach him the ways of how to control what he could do. This time he had to remember for himself what he had learnt and perhaps lend his knowledge to others in an attempt to aid their own survival.

He sighed briefly and turned to Matt and Mohinder, whose expressions told him just what he was thinking, "I guess we need to talk to them; tell them everything they want to know and come up with a new plan."

His two companions nodded in agreement and, once everybody had finally caught their breaths and found a clear space to stand, proceeded to get the crowd's attention. At first they were understandably confused and distracted by the previous events, as well as the unconscious bodies that scattered across the corridor. Matt found it hard to block out their intrusive, worrisome thoughts and couldn't help but consider to ask Tracy for her impressive people skills. It wasn't necessary, though, as Peter risked a quick trip back inside the smoky room to grab one of the lonesome chairs and stand on it, calling out for quiet.

Once the crowd's buzz of noise began to die down, Peter drew a long breath and proceeded to give an explanation,

"I don't know all of you, and I'm not sure if you're all aware of the situation you've been put in," he paused, biting his lip and scanning the crowd. He saw Zoe standing not far away from Tracy, giving him a worried yet supportive smile. He was almost sickened to see the amount of teenagers who were perhaps even younger than Luke who stood alone in the corner glaring and folding his arms tightly in front of him. He continued, "But I know how scared you all must be feeling. Hurt, tired, confused. I know." Another pause as he searched the anxious frowns of the people below him, "We believe the government have brought you here because each one of you has a special ability; a power. I assure you, you are not alone. We are all special and different and we think they want to experiment on us. Change us. _Hurt_ us." He took in a quick breath and glanced down at both Matt and Mohinder who stood either side of him, "My friends and I are the same as any of you. We've been hunted too. But together we escaped them, and we've come to save you."

"So if they experiment on us, they could find a way to make us normal," a young man in the crowd spoke up, "What if we want that? What if we don't want to be _special_."

Peter swallowed and bit his lip once again as he stared at the man, "Well," he began, "I guess that's your choice," his tone suddenly became a little more stern, "But I warn you, the people in charge of this operation are not good people. Just look at what they've done to you already. They kidnapped you in your own homes, they tied you up, drugged you and planned to operate on you without your consent. I strongly advise that you do not stay here," he paused again and stared at him, "Or I have reason to believe you will most likely die here."

More mumblings and anxious chatter. Peter raised his hands and asked for quiet, "I have seen what will happen to people like us, and it's not good. They don't want to help us," he pointed to nowhere in particular, "We're lab rats to them. If one of their experiments fail, they'll keep trying at our expense. Don't you see? They're killers, murderers. They don't even see us as _human beings._ We are merely mutants to them," he breathed deeply, taking a brief pause from the speech, "I don't know if you've come to terms with what you are, or if you accept it or not, but I have grown to recognise that these abilities are part of who we are, and we do not _deserve_ to be punished for having them. This is why we need to fight back , fight for our freedom."

"Are you crazy?" another man intervened, "Listen, man; I have a wife and kid at home who have no idea where I am. I don't understand any of this and I don't want to. I can't fight them, I have to go home!"

"They'll only catch you again, you moron," a girl rolled her eyes, "Don't you get it? We won't be free unless we fight!"

"Let me deal with them," a darker man replied with surprising confidence, "With what I can do, they won't stand a chance," he added, a green ball of static sparkling in his palm.

"No, that won't work," insisted Peter, speaking over the continued chatter, "Trust me, you could have all the powers in the world - it won't make you indestructible, not by yourself. No, we need to stick together with this. If there's one thing I've learnt through all this, it's that it's dangerous to try and deal with something like this on your own. I've tried, despite the risks, and I've paid the price for it. Believe me," he added, rubbing the dry blood on the back of his neck, "What I'm trying to say is…we need to trust each other. We need to look out for each other if we want to survive and beat this thing. We are _stronger _together than we are apart. If you want to leave then I can't stop you. Go, be with your families, escape this awful place. But, if you want to end this now, forever - we could really use your help."

"He's right," Matt added as the mutterings increased again, "There's no way anyone can defeat this on their own, and we can't escape without anyone watching our backs either. They'll kill us. We need to all fight back together….or help each other get the Hell out of here."

"We should split in to two groups," suggested Mohinder as the crowd looked at him, "One group will confront the people in charge, the other group can find a way out."

"Good thinking," Peter told Mohinder briskly before turning back to the crowd, "That's what we'll do. All who want to fight, stick with me. Those who want to find a way out of this place, stand over there. It doesn't matter what side you pick, just as long as you stick with your group and don't do anything stupid. Now's the time to choose. Us against them; prepare for danger, be alert, and don't be afraid to cause a little damage. They're out to kill now. Remember, this isn't a game. We are all in danger unless we can work together. Choose wisely."

The crowd hesitated at first but slowly began to separate. Peter jumped down from the chair and stood on one side of the room as members of the crowd began to approach him. He saw Zoe and nodded her a thankful greeting.

"Thought I might come in handy," she told him, knocking on her skin with her knuckles as a joke. He smiled at her before he noticed Matt and Mohinder approach him.

"Guys, you don't have to come with me," he began, "I'm so grateful that you've come this far, for having faith in me even when you didn't agree with me. You've saved my skin a few times, reminded me that you guys have my back and I'm not alone in this. I know I've put you in danger and things are only going to get more insane, so I understand if you want to leave and help the others escape."

He was surprised to see them both smiling, and he even thought he saw Matt roll his eyes.

"We're not leaving, Peter," Mohinder told him seriously, "Not now. Not now we've come this far."

"Don't you get it by now?" Matt added, folding his arms, "We're with you 100 per cent. We want to help. You were right, we had to do this. Together."

Peter smiled appreciatively; not only for their help, but for their friendships which had lasted miraculously through the years. He had met Matt and Mohinder during peculiar circumstances; one had thought him to be a delusional nut job at first, the other considered him to be an insane pervert intending to kill a sixteen year old cheerleader. But they had come a long, long way since then. Even through the horrors, the arguments, the fights they had all lived through, their bonds were still thick and could never seem to be broken. Paradoxically, through all the pain and insanity, Peter couldn't be happier to have met two men that understood and appreciated who and what he was as much as Matt and Mohinder did.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

_**Emile Danko**_

**Building 26, Present Day**

"I'm still waiting for these cameras to get back online," Danko spoke up impatiently as he stood in front of the monitors, "Tell me what's happening." The only thing worse then not being in control was not being able to _tell _if you were or not. That's what Emile Danko was feeling now. His mobile phone didn't appear to be working, nor did the radio, and the monitors had been presenting him with useless static for too long now. His patience had dwindled and he was getting angrier by the second. He finally had control of _everything _and now he couldn't even tell what the hell was happening. He glanced towards the door, ready to walk right through it and face the danger again himself.

"I'm sorry, sir. I don't know. They must have taken down the remaining cameras," a woman in glasses told him from her computer. Danko bit down hard on his dry lip.

A man looked up from his own computer, "Sir! I have the last remaining footage of each camera," Danko marched over to him and placed himself behind him, eyes fixed to the screen as the man hit a button on the keyboard and the footage began to play.

It was Suresh. Each camera caught a short recording of his hand as it reached up and tore it down, causing static to suddenly appear on the monitor. Danko shook his head, "Oh, doctor Suresh. You could have been so useful to me. Now you've just made my list." His attention turned to another monitor, "What about this one?" he asked as he pointed to a black and white screen that seemed to be fuzzy and crooked. Static every so often obscured the picture but it was clear enough to see two figures creep down the corridor before the picture completely dissolved in to black and white fuzz. One of them appeared to be their camera vandal, Suresh. When Danko realised who the other was, he growled curse words under his breath, "_Peter Petrelli_. You just don't give up, do you? Echolson!" he turned to look at another man sitting behind a desk, typing and clicking frantically in front of his computer, "Did you find out what happened to the other cameras?"

"Yessir," he replied sharply, "Some of them. You're not going to like it." He wheeled back his chair slightly to allow Danko a better look at each camera's last remaining piece of footage. Danko leant forward and watched the empty prisoners room. Nothing. Then, a bright flame filled the screen before more static replaced its colourful fury.

"The Hell?" Danko murmured, grabbing the mouse and replaying the footage, "Wait a minute…That's one of _them._ I knew it. They're still there! Damn it!" He withdrew from the monitor and thundered towards his office, shutting the door behind him and grabbing the telephone from his desk.

"Hello? Can you hear me?" he spoke in to the receiver, "I need more men upstairs ASAP. It seems these freaks have more tricks up their sleeves than I anticipated…"

No answer.

Hearing a cough behind him, he stopped and slowly turned around to see a familiar figure. Tall, dark, creepy as hell; it was the man they call Sylar. He was here, towering above him and standing in front of the door of the office with that sinister smile of his. He had never seen him in person, but Danko knew this was definitely him.

"What's a guy got to do to get out of a place like this?" he asked, the dark smile indented in to his face.

"You're Sylar," replied Danko, placing the phone back down without so much as a shudder. Sylar sensed his lack of fear and edged towards him slowly.

"That's right. Judging by your little board out there I'm quite the celebrity. Your friendly employees out there recognised me straight away."

Danko peered through the blinds of the window and became alarmed to see that all of his staff were suddenly slouched in their seats or on the floor, lifeless.

"You killed them all," muttered Danko with a heavy frown, though still lacking any obvious emotion.

"Nope, they're just sedated. A clever little trick I got from my father before I nearly killed him. Unfortunately, somebody else beat me to it," he added hatefully, picturing the ice statue once again and the anger it brought him. Their confrontation was so short-lived, and Sylar still felt as if he had some unfinished business he could no longer fulfil.

"Why are you here?" The older man glared at him, "To kill me?"

Sylar simply stared at him before propping himself up on the desk, "I want to know why you're rounding up people with abilities. Is it true to want to experiment on them?"

Danko appeared surprised by the question. Why hadn't the man taken his head by now? Did he actually care about these people and what they were doing to them? He relaxed a little; at least he was still alive, breathing air and still capable of answering what this intruder wanted to know, "Yes, it's true," he said slowly.

"Hmm," he pouted in thought before turning to look at Danko again, "It takes a sick person to think up a massive conspiracy like this," he paused almost seeming impressed. A little more seriousness entered his tone as he stared in to Danko's glassy eyes with his own piercing brown ones, "Why are you doing this?"

"Our aim," Danko began, "is to figure out how to turn these so called abilities off.."

"Turn them off? And you would do this by…?"

"Tests, brain surgery," Danko breathed, "Any way possible. We'll know once we learn more about how they work."

Truthfully, what this man was describing seemed very similar to what Sylar was guilty of himself. Well, apart from claiming the abilities for his own. Obviously, Nathan and this Danko person weren't interested in that. But tracking down specials and cutting them open to find out just how they tick was a process he was definitely familiar with. Suddenly, this operation didn't seem as awful as he first thought.

"It seems like we have a few things in common," he smiled slightly, eyes returning to Danko's.

"Like what?" Danko spat.

"We both have an interest in finding out how these abilities work. I'm somewhat of a professional in that area."

"Oh yeah? So what?"

"You must have dozens of specials running riot upstairs, each with unique and intriguing abilities waiting to be studied. We both agree, none of those people deserve those abilities so I'm all for turning them off. It's probably better then my method of dealing with them anyway," he sniggered slightly and Danko watched him carefully as he continued, "I want to make a deal with you."

Now it was Danko's turn to snigger, "A deal? Right. I guess this is a theme today or something."

Sylar drew his fingers and slammed Danko in to the wall, "Are you going to listen to what I have to say or not?"

Danko didn't say anything, just slowly returned to his feet while grunting in pain after recovering from the initial shock.

"I can understand these powers better than anyone. I can help you understand how they work. I can help you turn them off permanently too."

The older man finished dusting himself off, "And you would want in return?"

He shrugged, "I just want to be there when you cut each one of their heads open. Saves me doing it, even though I often consider that the fun part. But I figure, so long as you're gathering up all the specials anyway it would sure save me the trouble."

Danko looked away for a moment in thought before returning his gaze, "Is that it? You just want to be there during the surgery so you can help us turn off their abilities?" Sylar grinned. Danko stared at him, "It would make you stronger, wouldn't it? More powerful…"

"Exactly."

"And what if I refuse your offer? We have plenty of educated scientists already. Granted, they're not all trained for this sort of case but how do I know they won't be just as efficient as you?"

Sylar glared at him and thundered towards him threateningly, "Trust me, you don't want to refuse this offer."

Danko looked up at him, "You won't kill me, otherwise you would have done it by now. For the same reason you didn't kill _them_ outside," he went on, realising he understood this psychopath now more than he first thought, "I've read your file; you seem to have a pattern just like most serial killers. And guess what? I don't fit in that pattern and you know why? Because I don't possess anything you can just take by killing me and cutting open my head, so what would the point be?"

"You don't know me," growled Sylar, "And I'm not as selective with my kills as you may think. I could just kill you now and go upstairs and gain all of their abilities the old fashioned way. It would be a blood bath, and it would be all your fault. But I don't think you want me to do that, do you?"

Danko ran his tongue along the inside of his teeth as his mind processed this. He had been warned of this man many times. He knew what he was capable of and he would be capable of a lot more if he allowed him to be present during the surgeries. He sighed. Was it worth the risk of letting Sylar become more powerful? His file did mention something about his impressive ability to comprehend these powers just by studying a person's brain. It would be extremely convenient and make the process a lot speedier.

Sylar continued to glare at Danko as he considered his offer. He knew he could easily rid of him and attack the clueless flock upstairs, taking their abilities one at a time. But if he stayed here, he wouldn't have to put so much effort in to killing each individual and tearing open their heads. And as much as he told himself that was the thrilling part, it really wasn't. Besides, the more specials that Danko's cronies captured over time, the more abilities he could harvest for himself. For now, his first concern was that infernal Peter Petrelli. Now the interfering man had his abilities, he was almost just as strong as Sylar himself. _Almost_. But he would surely try and step in to rescue his followers, being the good Samaritan he was. And as long as he was trying to hurt others, Peter would be the hero and try to stop him.

He wondered why he ever agreed to help such a deluded fool. Oh, yes; his father. Who was now dead. And the apparent fact that Danko would mercilessly murder hundreds of innocent people.

Oh well. As long as he got what he wanted, he no longer cared.

What Danko said next made Sylar wonder if the man had been looking inside his own head. He sighed again and looked him dead in the eyes, "Alright. I'll accept the deal. But only if you do me one more favour," he paused, "Kill Peter Petrelli for me."

Sylar stared at him, "You want me to kill Peter?"

"He's the reason for this mess, isn't he? The rest of them hang on every word he says like he's their saviour. As long as he's around this operation runs the risk of failure, and I can't have that. This research is vital and I cannot allow him to destroy all the work we've already begun."

As much as Sylar encouraged the idea of ridding of Peter Petrelli, he couldn't help but be surprised. Obviously, Danko wanted him out of the way as much as Sylar did. But wasn't he forgetting one thing?

"What about your little colleague? Nathan Petrelli?"

"Don't worry about him. Just concentrate on getting rid of Peter. Then we can continue the research and you can have all the brains you want."

Sylar showed a toothy grin. In some ways, this stranger reminded him of himself. Murder was in their blood, whether they wanted it or not. They did what they had to to reach their goal, to survive. Sylar nodded,

"It would be my pleasure."

The groups had been sorted. Tracy, one of the people more eager to leave, decided to help her group find a way out. Luke, who had decided he needed urgent medical treatment, had chosen to accompany her along with the rest of the specials who were desperate to leave whether it was because they were scared, unfamiliar with their powers or just really needed to get out of there. Tracy's group appeared to have the majority of people but that was alright. Peter didn't want to put anyone in danger who wasn't prepared or able to fight a battle they couldn't. Peter had reminded Tracy about the missing Sylar and wished her good luck. She had smiled at the boys and wished them the same.

"Be careful," she told them before darkening her tone, "Give those bastards hell. I mean it."

She took a deep breath and turned to the crowd behind her, giving them her own instructions and reminding them of Peter's previous speech. Luke stood at the back still clutching at his wounded arm. He had lost interest in the whole thing. Samson was dead, Sylar was AWOL, and his arm stung like a bitch. Tracy rolled her eyes and beckoned him as the group began to make their way down the corridor.

Peter watched them go nervously. He would have given them a radio or a phone of some sort, but a girl had admitted her ability often messed with communications devices, which explained why the radio's weren't working as well as normal. Mohinder placed a friendly hand on his shoulder, "She'll be fine. They'll all be fine. I'm more worried about us," he stifled a dry laugh. Peter nodded worriedly before turning back to their own group.

"Okay" he began whilst quickly scanning the six other members of the group, "We're going to confront a man called Danko. He's in charge of this operation now. It's likely there'll be a lot of guards protecting him so just do what you have to to get by them and stay alive. They're using bullets, they're shooting to kill so be careful."

"In the room before," the man with the green static spoke up (Peter had learnt his name was Michael), "There was another man. That guy, uh, Danko was shouting at him. He looked familiar. Was he a part of this too?"

Peter sighed and nodded sadly, "Yes, he was. His name is Nathan."

"Nathan…Nathan Petrelli? The Senator?" Michael asked with surprise.

"He's lost my vote," a woman muttered.

Peter allowed another quiet sigh. Not long ago he would have been as angry as the people in front of him. But he had had time to adjust to the deception by now and after learning what he had about Nathan's position and the recent deal he had made with Danko, Peter wasn't sure how much he could hate his older brother anymore.

"Yes, he _was_ in charge. But now Danko is and believe me, he's much more dangerous than Nathan. He's making the orders now. He's the one intending to hurt us. He's the one we've got to stop."

"What if we can't?" another man asked.

"Hey, we will," Zoe told him before smiling at Peter again, "Together."

"Us against them," Peter repeated, returning the smile, "Everybody ready?"

"Hey," Michael spoke again, "as much as I think it's great that you three complete strangers have taken the time and effort to free us from imprisonment and then lead us in to what seems to be the strangest battle anyone has ever fought…don't we at least get to learn your names?"

There was silence for a beat, "Sure," Peter smiled, looking down briefly before introducing Matt, Mohinder, and himself to the group.

"Perfect," Michael announced, "_Now_ we're ready."

Tracy Strauss wasn't used to this. She had a quick wit and persuasive charm about her that made her an excellent political adviser back before Pinehearst or any of this madness ensued, but this was new to her. She wasn't used to leading a group of people and guiding them away from danger. She realised nobody had asked her to take this role but nobody else appeared to be very enthusiastic about taking over. Besides, they seemed to trust her and identify her as someone who knew what they were doing. Maybe they assumed she was part of this rescue mission seeing as she had woken up each individual from their forced sleep and brought them back to reality. She told herself this would be a walk in the park but there was still that nagging feeling that something was going to go very wrong.

She had hoped the "Illusionist" guy would have had enough strength left in him by now to hide them all from the danger but it seemed the smoke had weakened him and now he was more likely to expose them than hide them with all that coughing he was doing.

"Try and keep it down," Tracy whispered, her arm raised like a firearm as it slowly became encased with ice, ready to attack any intruders.

"I'm sorry, I'll try to cough myself to death a little quieter," he retorted, but was compliant with her request.

She glanced behind her and saw Luke join her, his own hand appearing to produce an orb of heat. She was surprised at his sudden presence but he only shrugged , admitting he was bored of moping at the back and the quicker they got out of here the better.

She noticed her arm begin to drip; she was melting. Pushing away Luke's hand she made sure her own icy form was as far away as possible, "Do you mind? Watch it!"

The heat waves vanished and he chuckled slightly, "Hot and cold. Could we be any more opposite to each other?"

She rolled her eyes but didn't return any more of a response than that, only pushed ahead urgently. Luke followed her eagerly. She may be ice cold, but in his eyes she was the hottest girl here. Of course, that would have to be the most critical thing on a teenage boy's mind in a situation like this.

"I hear something," they heard a brunette girl behind them say nervously. They turned around to look at her. She seemed very anxious. Tracy strained her hearing and looked around her in all directions, but she couldn't hear a thing.

"Are you sure?"

"I hear footsteps," she trembled, "They're very loud. They're coming closer."

Luke still seemed confused but Tracy figured out her impressive hearing skills must be something to do with her ability. She stepped closer to her, placing a hand on her shoulder, "Where?" she glanced behind her, breathing intensifying, "Which direction?"

The girl placed a loose strand of curly brown hair behind her ear and closed her eyes for a moment. A few seconds later, she drew a short breath and pointed to one side, "Over there. Two men. They're almost here."

There was a few panicked mumblings but Tracy managed to calm them. She held out her icy hand and some of the others behind her emulated her actions, ready to defend themselves. As expected, two men dressed head to toe in black and holding guns appeared where the girl had previously been pointing. On seeing them, they pointed their weapons and prepared to shoot. A scream broke out. Luke had used his good arm to shoot heat waves at one of them, causing the man to topple over in pain. But by then it had been too late. A shot rang out. Tracy closed her eyes.

When she opened them she was surprised to see herself and the entire group enveloped by some sort of transparent bubble. A young man with a small scar above his lip had his arms out and he was breathing heavily. He seemed to be the cause of it.

"How are you doing that?" someone asked.

"I don't know," he breathed, sweat forming on his forehead, "I really don't know."

"Whatever it is, keep doing it," Tracy told him, taking a deep breath herself as the bullets continued firing only to bounce right off the apparent force field.

"We can't just stay in a bubble forever," Luke mumbled watching the bullets recoil off the see-through dome.

"Just wait," Tracy warned, stopping him from leaving the safety of the sphere. The man on the floor seemed to be recovering and he shakily reached for his gun that was lying on the floor in front of him. At that moment, he noticed a bullet shooting towards them and hit the man beside him in the thigh. He fell next to him. He glanced up to see the object that had caused the bullet to recoil,

"What the hell is that thing?"

"I don't know, just freakin' get rid of it," yelled the other man, clutching his wounded thigh in agony. His trembling frame weakened, and he let his weapon slide to the floor next to him. It was clear to see he wasn't interested in fighting anymore.

The first man scrambled back up and shot wildly at the group, thundering towards them, bullets firing everywhere. When he approached the sphere, he took his gun and pounded against it furiously, hoping to damage it.

_They're out to kill now, _Peter had said. He wasn't wrong.

Tracy glared at him, her hand icing over quickly. Luke shook his head, "Screw this." He took a breath before running out of the dome and head butting their attacker in the chest. He went sprawling to the floor, Luke on top of him, using the fist from his good arm to vent out his anger. He certainly wasn't new to fighting and he wasn't one to shy away from it. Whenever the kids at school said something about him, he made sure they'd regret it. He was always up for a good old-fashioned fight, rather than using the deadly advantage no one knew he had. Then again, he wasn't always one to win but this time he had to make sure of it, one-armed or not.

He punched the older man in the face and, before he could reach it, kicked his gun across the room. Tracy would have collected it, but decided with their powers, there was really no need for bullets and weapons such as that. The protective sphere seemed to fade away and while the fight ensued, Tracy beckoned the group onwards, past Luke who had now been rolled over and was receiving painful blows to the head, and down the next corridor.

Luke writhed in pain at the beatings, an agonising addition to his previous wounds. He took this as his cue to use his special advantage. He raised his unwounded arm and took aim, but the other man caught it and slowly began to bend it backwards.

"This is it, you freak. You're gonna wish you never did that."

Luke bit through his lip, screaming at the pain. Just when he thought his last remaining good arm was going to snap off, the man turned a strange colour of blue. His features frosted over and he fell to the floor, crashing in to little pieces. For a moment, he only stared at the remains before glancing up to see Tracy standing over him, staring and looking just as shocked as he did. She swallowed and held out her hand to help him up. He took it and thanked her for her assistance.

"It's no problem. Like Peter said, we've got to help each other out if we want to survive, right?"

He nodded and she walked on. He watched her and thought quietly to himself for a moment, glancing back at where they had just come from, before following Tracy towards the rest of the group.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

_**Peter Petrelli, Mohinder Suresh and Matt Parkman**_

**Building 26, Present Day**

_Where are you, Danko? We're ready for you. _

They had already snuck downstairs where Mohinder knew a control room with Danko's office was located. The three men lead the way confidently, the group following behind. They appeared quiet for now, familiarising themselves with their surroundings and the building they had been held hostage in. On the way, they saw several guards slumped on the floor or against the wall, alive but not awake. The trail of unconscious men seemed to lead down the hallway which Mohinder recognised to be the hall towards the control room. They pursued it without hesitance.

No one should be able to see them via monitor screens. Mohinder had taken care of most of the security cameras in this area, and the ones that did still work should be scrambled by a girl named Amy's amazing ability to interfere with technology. She admitted she rarely used her power to stop cameras from working, but if she really tried she could probably take them out while on the move.

Peter felt a tap on the back of his shoulder. He glanced behind him to see another young man, James, who followed him cautiously, "Now would probably be a good time to tell you what I can do."

"Oh really? What's that?" he asked, still proceeding down the hallway, turning away from him briefly to check the direction in which they were headed.

"Well, to be honest with you, it's still pretty new to me. But I've figured it out and it looks like I can, well, see in to the future."

Peter looked at him, impressed, "That's a good one. But I've seen and know enough of the future for now, thanks."

"No, I mean…it's the near future. The very near future. Like, it can range from five minutes to an hour. I've tested it. It's never done any more than that."

Now he was just confused, "Why are you telling me this? Is something going to happen?"

"That's the thing," James bit his lip, "I saw a small group of men with guns come around _that _corner," he pointed to the left of them, "They're gonna shoot everyone, man. That's all I saw, bullets firing everywhere. Blood, guts. We're not going to be fast enough. We're toast."

Peter stopped, everyone behind him stopping with him, "Thanks for the heads up. Matt, you hear that?"

Matt sighed, "Yep."

"You wanna play a little trick with me?"

"D'ya hear that? Sounds like voices." Bobby paused and raised his gun, waving a hand out to the others.

Three other men finished inspecting one of their unconscious friends, who lay inanimate on the floor, and turned to face Bobby with intrigue, "You think it's them? You think they did this to Joe?"

"Man, I know they did. You've seen what they can do. Danko's right, the sooner we catch 'em the sooner they can be locked up safely out of harm's way and they can fix 'em up to be like everyone else."

One man started shaking, "I don't like this, guys. Look what they've done to Joe. They could kill us."

"Relax, Phil. We got our guns. Remember, aim for the chest. Danko doesn't want bullets to be messin' up the brains. Although I don't understand why the hell not, they can always get new ones in. We'll be better prepared then, I'll make sure of it," he added bitterly, "Now come on, follow me."

The four uniformed men crept towards the corner, Bobby in the lead with his gun out in front. He held his breath. Phil was right, this was dangerous, they _could _be killed by these freaks of nature. But Bobby was determined to see this through. He counted to himself, to prepare him for whatever the hell was round that corner. _One. Two. _He glanced behind him quickly, realising if anything happened to these guys it would still be on him._ Three. _He beckoned the others towards him. _Four. _This was freakin' insane. _Five. _

He sprang out, his finger on the trigger, the rest of them following closely behind with their weapons raised. A single balding man stood alone in the corridor, staring angrily at them. It took them a moment to realise it was their boss, Emile Danko.

"Sir? What are you doing here?"

"What am _I _doing here?" Danko spat, thundering towards them, "What do you people think you're doing?"

"We're trying to find the prisoners, sir. Like you said…"

"The prisoners escaped this floor, I tried to call you. This area's clear as of seven minutes ago," he glanced at his watch to make his point clear, "They're probably on the ground floor by now trying to steal a ride out of here. I want you to get down there and stop them," he raised his voice, "Or I will hold you personally responsible if they escape!"

Bobby nodded frantically. There was something about this guy that made him uneasy. He nodded to his group and they headed towards one of the lifts by the stairs. Danko watched them leave and smirked.

Some cursing could be heard as he watched the men flying in to what they thought was the elevator. It took them seconds later to realise they had been bundled in to one of the cells, the door jerking shut with a sudden force, an invisible figure emerging from behind the door.

Danko's form disappeared and so did the illusion of the elevator entrance. Matt wiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm, breathing heavily whilst smiling at Peter who looked much the same, "I didn't think we could do it. I mean, I've done it before but…"

"Trust me, I know what you mean. But we got 'em," he panted in return, hearing the knocking on the door and the disturbed cries of the men on the other side mix with the impressed comments of the people around him.

"That was incredible!" Mohinder interrupted them with a wide grin, "However, I'm sure there'll be no objections when I say I think we should move on.." he added cautiously, glancing behind him as the yells and bangs persisted.

The two others caught their breaths and nodded, beginning to make their way towards where the uniformed men had came from. Peter strayed behind for a moment, trying to regain his balance. He was certainly powerful, but once in action these powers could be pretty draining. James hung back too. He seemed to be completely still, his expression blank. Once Peter felt normality taking over again, he walked over to him with concern, waving a hand in front of his eyes,

"James? Anyone in there?"

It was as if the man were simply day dreaming. He shook his head before focusing his attention on the man in front of him, "Hmm?"

"Are you alright?"

He bit his lip and stared at him. He paused a beat before nodding, "Yeah. Uh. I mean, are _you _alright? That was pretty amazing, never seen anything like it. Even that "Illusionist" guy didn't do anything that impressive." Peter only glanced down and smiled modestly, never knowing quite how to react when somebody complimented him on his special abilities, "So what is it you can do, you guys have the same power or something? Whatever it is…"

"Actually," he bit the side of his lip, "I can do a bit of everything. Kinda comes with the original; whatever people around me can do, I can do."

"Wow, that's pretty incredible. So you can do what I do; see the future?"

Surprisingly, Peter's first reaction was '_God, I hope not'. _Truth be told, as useful as such a power was, he was sick of hearing about the future. Now he only wanted to concentrate on the present and changing the future he had been told of so many times before in the past. To answer James' question though, he merely shook his head, "I don't know. I haven't really figured them all out yet. Possibly."

James smiled somewhat sadly, eyes dropping to the floor, "Was hoping you wouldn't say that…" he admitted. Peter looked at him curiously , "Because I've seen what's going to happen, and now I have to be the one to tell you."

"What? What is it?" he put a hand on his shoulder, "Tell me."

"I saw you. You had a scar on your face, and you were dead."

Peter shuddered at that. "That's impossible."

"I'm sorry."

The scar? Dead? This guy had described future him, and so the man who he would become was catching up with him a LOT sooner than he had hoped. In addition to this confusion, hearing you were going to die was never a pleasant thing. Not that Peter was overly surprised. What scenario had he ever been told where someone hadn't brutally died or turned to the Dark Side? No, he was more concerned about that scar. Either his future self was going to make another appearance or he would ultimately _become _that future version of himself in a matter of, well, an hour or less.

_Screw that, _he thought, _I'm here to change the future, and I'll change this too._

Meanwhile, Nathan Petrelli was still trying to make his way to the prisoner's room. Everyone was still in there, scared and confused. There was still time to fix this. He hadn't quite decided what he was going to do yet, which prompted him to wonder why he was so desperate in trying to get the president on the phone when he had no idea what he was going to say. The useless dial tone only frustrated him as he took the phone away from his ear and mumbled curse words under his breath. Something was wrong here. As if things needed to get any worse…

There was no escape for them. Not with Danko in charge, and Nathan wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to let loose a dozen or so people who probably knew by now exactly who he was. He stood by his decision because he realised the dangers, the pain and misery these powers could be responsible for. For all he knew, there could be hundreds of Sylars out there, all copying the abilities of others and using them to cause havoc and harm to innocent people. He could admit, however, things had gotten out of hand. Perhaps kidnapping these people, drugging them, marching them on to a plane and sending them here to get experimented and operated on wasn't such a great idea. He hadn't considered all the implications; he was too busy, too determined. And Danko had supported it, willed him on further.

And then the infuriating man just got on his nerves.

He tried the phone again, pushing the buttons in furiously. Nothing. There was a faint noise of static too which made Nathan even more suspicious. Looks like phoning the president wasn't going to work.

He stopped when he heard voices. Placing the phone back in his trench pocket, he slowly and cautiously crept towards the source of the noise. He heard a distinct female voice, advising someone what to do and trying to keep them calm. The Senator bit down on his tongue. Tracy Strauss. They must have left the prisoners room after all. He sighed, wishing they had just stayed where they were. Now they had only made things more difficult for themselves. He peered round a corner and spotted a small crowd in the centre of the white floor. He then took a deep breath, raised both hands in the air in front of him, and began to take slow steps towards them.

"You!" Tracy snapped as soon as her icy blue eyes caught sight of him, "Don't come any closer!" She raised her frosty hand threateningly. Luke did the same, everyone else stood back cautiously and watched the conversation unfold.

Nathan stood perfectly still, hands still in the air, "I'm not going to hurt any of you. I'm unarmed, there's no one behind me. I promise."

"We're not going back, Nathan," she spat, eyes wild with fury and fear, "Get out of our way."

"I know," just looking at her in that orange uniform, shaking with anger, panic, made him realise what such a monster he had made himself out to be, "I'm sorry for putting you all through this, I truly am."

"I've heard that before," she replied hatefully, "Just leave us alone! Please. Let us go," she glared.

Nathan shook his head, "Look, I've seen where this leads," he added with regret, remembering the vivid drawing he had seen painted across the wall of that prison cell, his brother lying lifeless in his arms. He wondered which one of these prisoners had drawn the painful sight. And to think, what had happened to these people in that vision? That future? "I've seen what a mistake this was. I want to help you."

"Help us?" Luke scoffed, "You did this to us, man."

"Like I said, it was a mistake. But you have to listen to me; Danko's pulling the strings around here now and that's a problem for everybody. If I can reach the president, I can talk to him and get this mess straightened out. Then we can do all of this properly."

Tracy wrinkled her nose, "What do you mean '_properly'_?"

"I told you, I only want to help people like us. Protect them."

"'_Us'_?" someone in the crowd repeated. Nathan opened his mouth to respond, but before he could reply five more guards emerged behind him, armed with guns.

"You said you were alone," Tracy raised her voice angrily. But Nathan seemed just as surprised as her.

"It's okay," he raised his hand again and told the men to put down their guns, "It's alright, I've got this."

The men seemed resistant to lower their weapons. This only made Nathan more frustrated,

"What's the matter with you people? I said lower your weapons."

"Sorry, Senator," one of the men began, aiming his gun at Nathan. A few others did the same. "Mr. Danko's orders."

"He told us you have no authority anymore," another man explained.

"No _authority_? Is that what he told you? Did he happen to explain to you that this," he glanced nervously at the prisoners and then continued in a hushed but angry voice, "that _this_ whole operation was _my_ idea?"

"Sorry, sir but he told us you were a danger to the objective he's trying to achieve."

Nathan pushed back his hair with frustration, "Alright, I see what he's doing," he began bitterly, "Don't you understand? He's trying to undermine me so he can have full control," the soldiers shared hesitant glances with each other, "That man is going to cause more pain and grief then you can imagine. I wish I had seen that earlier, but," he lowered his voice, "It's not too late. If you just listen to me, we can -"

A shot interrupted them, but it wasn't from one of Danko's men. It appeared it _was_ too late. Luke stood with his arm out, pointing at one of the men who was currently writing on the floor with pain.

Nathan turned to look at him, pale-faced, "What did you do?" he demanded.

Luke glared at him but seemed to be trembling, "He was making eyes at me. He was gonna shoot, I could see it!"

"What are you waiting for? Shoot them!" the soldier on the floor screamed, clutching at his torso in agony.

Tracy had been staring at Luke when she heard the order. Bullets began to fly, but before she could even turn back to watch the madness ensue, the shield was up and everyone was safely inside, much to their relief. Or so she thought.

The girl from earlier had slid to the floor, a hand pressed to the side of her neck. Blood seeped between her fingers and dripped down her neck. She'd been hit. Tears streamed down her eyes and she moaned in pain. A man dropped down next to her and ripped a piece of his shirt for her to cover her wound with.

"Is she okay?" Tracy asked.

He inspected the wound and turned to look up at Tracy, "She'll be fine for now. But we need to get her out of here. ASAP."

Tracy bit her lip and turned to look back at the men shooting at them from outside. Her heart raced as she watched each one of their furious and determined expressions. It sickened her. They were undeterred, even when the bullets recoiled. She could see Nathan futilely shielding himself with his forearms out in front of him.

Tracy couldn't explain why she did what she did next but she flung her arms out of the transparent bubble, wrapped her arms round Nathan and pulled him inside to safety. Her arms relaxed around his chest as she stood behind him, breathing heavily. Nathan recovered, his own hands clutching at her pale arms, "Thank you."

"Don't thank me," she replied coldly, "I haven't decided what we're going to do to you yet."

tbc.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

_**Peter Petrelli, Mohinder Suresh and Matt Parkman**_

**Building 26, Present Day**

Peter found himself beside Matt Parkman and Mohinder Suresh once again, marching down the corridor with a morbid seriousness. _Someone _was probably going to die here tonight, but it wasn't going to be him. Not until he made sure all this was over and done with. Permanently.

The small crowd behind him followed cautiously, but they appeared more confident then before. Maybe the sudden behaviour had sprung from the anger brought on by their unfair treatment. He hoped Tracy's group had made it out alright. He saw the control room up ahead and swallowed. He held his breath when he saw a short hairless man dressed in black stroll in from the other end of the corridor. Peter tensed, his muscles tightening in his body and his teeth gritting together tightly.

"Who's that?" A member of the group asked behind him.

"That's Danko," Peter answered, locking with the old man's evil gaze.

Danko took a few steps forward, "We must stop meeting like this, Peter. It's too much of a clique for my liking."

"Hilarious."

"Let's cut to the chase shall we? I realise this is hard for you to understand but we are trying to do what's best for you. And I've just about had it with trying to convince you."

"Then don't," Matt replied angrily.

"I'm going to give you one last chance. Stop this, let us help you. I promise we'll provide you all with suitable facilities this time. You're just making things worse by trying to fight it. This is inevitable after all; did you people really think you could walk around like this forever?"

"You have no right, Danko," Peter almost yelled, "I'm not going to let you hurt _anyone _else, and we're all _leaving _the way we were when we came."

"Well, except for one," Danko smiled crookedly, "You." Everyone remained silent as Danko took a step forward, "Oh, Peter. You judge me for deceiving you, for bringing you here for my own selfish reasons when you are in fact guilty of precisely the same thing."

"What are you talking about?" he growled angrily.

"How about I refresh your memory?"

He turned his head to look behind him as the crowd watched curiously. A familiar figure emerged, dressed in dark clothing and sporting a recognisable sinister smile. Peter felt the air escape his lungs as he sighed, shaking his head. This had to be one of the stupidest things Sylar had ever agreed to. He saluted Peter teasingly, standing next to his new accomplice.

"Remember me?" he hissed bitterly.

"What the hell are you doing? He wants to kill people like us. You can't trust him."

"And who are you to say who I can and can't trust, _Peter,"_ Sylar snapped, shooting him an angry glance, "Since you're the one who tricked me in to coming here and taking my powers. I should have never listened to you."

Peter could hear the anxious mumblings start up again behind him. Obviously, these people didn't know Sylar and didn't realise what evil lurked in that disturbing brain of his. He knew he had been wrong about Sylar now. This only proved it. But he couldn't have these people doubt him. The fight hadn't even begun yet.

He stepped forward, "You think you're getting something out of this, don't you? And let me guess; killing me is going to get you whatever _he_ promised you," his thoughts returned to the near-future James had described to him. Only now, he could clearly see the images flash in front of him. It looked like he took the man's power after all. The figure was definitely him, the scar indented in to his bruised face, his body weak and lifeless. Was Sylar the one who was going to do that to him? It was inevitable really, "It doesn't take a genius to realise he's using you. Once you're done with me, he'll turn on you and you'll find yourself in the same situation we've all been put in."

"That'll never happen."

"He'll kill you like he's tried to kill us."

"No, he won't, Peter. And you _know_ why. Because I'm _invincible_."

Peter smirked, "That's what you think."

Sylar bit his lip and glanced at Danko. They exchanged a gentle nod and Sylar turned his attention back to Peter, "Let's see how your little lambs do without their shepherd to guide them to safety."

With that, he mentally flung Peter high in to the ceiling, so that he came crashing back down with a loud and painful thud.

"Peter!" Mohinder cried, but before he could aid his friend Danko had pulled out a gun and had it pointed right at him.

"You can't cover all of us with one gun, Danko," Matt scoffed, standing so he was almost in front of Mohinder.

Danko only grinned, pulling out his mobile phone from his pocket, "That's why I'm calling for back-up. Seeing as most of the men on this floor are….out of action, I'm going to have to make a call to downstairs," he opened up the phone and held it halfway to his ear, the gun in his other hand still pointed at the prisoners, "Except…one of you is preventing the signal from getting through. Right?"

Peter held his dazed head and struggled to his feet, shooting a cold glare at Sylar. The group was silent.

"No confession? Alright," Danko sighed, "Well, I don't think it's you, Peter. Even if you did have that ability by now you've obviously been too preoccupied to learn how to use it."

Sylar flicked his hand once again and Peter went flying to one side.

"Doctor Suresh - super strength, correct?"

No answer, but Sylar mentally threw him to one side anyway.

"Matt Parkman. I know you have the power to mess with people's heads…but technology? No."

Matt, too, was shoved aside without physical aid.

"Let's just cut to the chase shall we?" He aimed his gun again and shot unexpectedly at a short blonde girl in the centre of the group. He got it one. Amy fell to the floor with a shriek, followed by a horrified "No!" from Peter and a sea of gasps all around. Danko stared coldly as the girl fell to the floor, his eyes drifting back to the phone grasped in his bony fingers. He punched in the numbers and made his call.

Peter's eyes were glued to Amy's fragile body struggling with pain on the floor. He scrambled over to her and inspected her wound. The bullet was lodged somewhere in her arm and blood was dripping on to the floor, staining his knees and hands as he leant over her with concern.

Mohinder and Matt, along with the rest of the group, could only stare with the same look of shock and fear as everyone else. They could tell this was only the beginning.

"Don't move, it's okay. It's okay, we'll get you out of here. It's okay," Peter muttered softly to her as he ripped part of his own shirt to wrap around her wound. She stuttered something incomprehensible in between her groans of pain.

Sylar watched uneasily. Danko shut his phone and watched the event in front of him, "Relax. She'll be fine. It's only a flesh wound. I'll have one of my doctors take care of it."

"What is this going to accomplish, Danko?" Peter growled, getting to his feet and thundering towards him.

"Well, I'm able to use my damn phone now. That's something."

He stopped not far in front of him, "You honestly think we'll agree to what you say after you _shot _one of us?"

"And I suppose you assembled this group so we could all just sit down and have a nice chat, is that right?" He stared in to Peter's eyes, the hatred growing in them, "No. You came for a fight. You want to kill me."

"I want to stop you."

"Then you'll _have_ to kill me."

Peter stared at him silently, having no response. He could hear footsteps behind them, soldiers marching to Danko's aid. The group muttered nervously. Mohinder knelt down next to Amy to comfort her, but his concerned eyes seemed to do the opposite.

"This is it, right?" she whispered weakly, "This is where we fight."

Mohinder frowned as he spotted the rest of the soldiers appear behind the group, "Yeah, this is where we fight."

"One last chance," Danko announced as the soldiers assembled.

"We're not going to let you take us again," Peter told him. His eyes drifted to Sylar who stood not far away, his own eyes burning a hole in to him, "So you might as well do what you came here to do."

Sylar shrugged, "Fine with me."

A shot of electricity fired from Sylar's hand and engulfed Peter in a lightening storm of blue electric light. The others watched in horror. His eyes wild, Sylar approached his victim slowly. At first, his body seemed to absorb the shock as anticipated, the screams of pain a satisfying result. But after a while, the light seemed to bounce off of him and the shock recoiled, ricocheting back in to Sylar's own body and causing him to shake vigorously.

The bright electric blue faded. Sylar recovered, panting for breath. Peter felt his skin softening, returning to normal as he watched Sylar, waiting for another attack.

"Well, you certainly didn't take that ability from me," Sylar mumbled with a sideways grin before holding out both his hands and shooting the electricity from his palms once again, yelling over the noise. But Peter was quicker, with both palms pointed towards Sylar, one emitted the same electric blue, the other a poisonous green streak of sparks. There appeared to be a visible stalemate as the opposing flows of energy met in between them and struggled to reach the enemy.

Matt bent down towards Mohinder, watching the fight unfold, "I guess that's our cue."

Moments later, Mohinder found himself launching towards Danko, fists clenched and ready to cause some damage. He felt bullets rocket past him, missing him by inches. It was at that second, he had turned around and noticed the whole group had began to fight their own individual fights. It was terrifying, and somewhat beautiful at the same time. He was witnessing these people fight for their freedom, for what they were, using what their genetics had evolved for them. But even through all that, the bloodshed that would come from that was becoming painfully obvious. Amy lay bleeding on the floor, clutching at her wound, useless. She seemed alright for now. Everyone seemed to have their own distractions at the moment. Matt's nose was already bleeding, but he couldn't tell whether that was because somebody had broken it for him, or if it was from the strenuous task of controlling the enemy. Michael seemed on top of things, quite literally as the mesmerising flood of green sparks rendered the guards underneath his feet unconscious. Zoe was busy helping others who were not so successful in their fights, dodging the guards, their bullets bouncing off of her as if they were merely made out of some rubbery substance. And of course there was Peter, still battling with Sylar. His abilities had manifested quite magnificently and the strength he had acquired since the beginning of their journey had become obvious. But he wasn't as naïve. He had seen that he needed help, and help he would get.

As the storm of blue and green seemed to erupt in front of them, Mohinder hurried towards them, running past the intense battles around him. But before he could reach his friend or their notorious enemy, he felt something pin him down and his face suddenly became soaked with blood as one of Danko's men started to hit him continuously with the butt of his gun. Gathering the last of his strength, and recovering from the surprise attack, Mohinder rolled the man over and started to strangle him with his bear hands. He choked. He very nearly had him.

Abruptly, something flew in to him with such a force he unintentionally went flying with it in to the wall on the other side of the room. Dazed, he looked up to see it had been another guard who was now lying in pain on the floor. Mohinder looked up again to see that familiar featured face. He scrambled up towards Danko as sweat and blood dripped from his body.

He had been standing comfortably, his arms crossed as he observed the occurrence without so much as an element of concern. Mohinder felt his teeth and fists clench again as Danko turned to him and a flash of fear appeared on to his guiltless features. Instinctively, he raised his foot and kicked Mohinder in the torso, causing him to fall on to the hard surface below. The attack had surprised him, but not paralysed him. He tried to scramble to his feet once again when another man appeared over him, gun in hand and pointing right at his chest. He hardly had time to draw in a fearful breath when the man clumsily fell on top of him, James appearing behind him and having hit him hard on the head with a different gun. Mohinder pushed the guy off of him and thanked the new arrival. James nodded and helped him up.

"I guess we've got everything to lose now, right?" he sighed before shooting one last glance at the Indian man and heading back in to the fight. Mohinder swallowed. He was right. If they didn't win here today, they could kiss freedom goodbye, and perhaps their own lives as they knew them.

Peter's back hit the wall and he choked for breath. Kicking his feet desperately in the air, he squirmed and fought for breath. Sylar was suddenly standing over him, his hand gently squeezing the air. Peter held his breath, eyes watering and neck pulsing with pain. His mind began to spin. He glared with intense anger. He saw red blurring his eyes, obscuring Sylar's smug face. He felt his heart beat in his ears. Quite suddenly, Sylar had involuntarily sprang backwards. Peter smiled in triumph before he fell on to the floor in a coughing fit. He rolled on to his back, spluttering for air. As he crawled to his hands and knees, he saw Sylar thunder towards him again furiously. He shook his head.

"Give it up, Gabriel," he muttered before placing a hand on to the floor and causing part of the surface to transform in to ice. Sylar slipped and landed backwards, sliding towards Peter. The younger Petrelli jumped up and stunned the man with the green sparks. Sylar shook vigorously with the strange stinging sensation. His chest felt heavy, as if he couldn't breathe and his skin felt as if hot needles were poking in to him, "I was wrong before - you're not invincible," he stopped, taking a minor break from the violence, "Neither of us are. Get over yourself and take a look at reality."

Before Sylar could reply, Peter felt a bullet pierce his neck. He stumbled back, struggling for breath and overcoming the sudden stinging sensation. Cursing, he pulled the metal object from his skin, the blood drying around his already healed wound. He glanced up to see a nervous looking man with a gun, dressed in familiar uniform. Giving his attacker a sideways glance, he raised his hand and sent an invisible force to crash him in to the wall next to him, causing him to fall on to the floor, groaning in pain.

As he began to turn around he felt a fist punch him in the face and send him falling to the floor. Looked like Sylar had already recovered and was now kicking him violently in the stomach over and over again. Peter cried out in pain. Sylar yelled over his cries, "Don't you get it by now? I'm not interested in what you have to say!" he kicked him again, feeling the bones in his body crack and then reform within moments, "I don't care about these people and I certainly don't care about you!" he halted the kicking, raising the man high above him before using his mind to send him in to a few of the guards.

Peter spat out blood. Luckily he knew no permanent damage would be done. Whatever Sylar did to him he would just as easily bounce back. He took in deep, pained breaths before shakily getting to his feet, "I thought I saw another side to you," he seethed, "But obviously whatever this _thing _is that drives you to be such a sadistic murderous bastard is too strong for you to handle." He sucked in a breath and yelled at the top of his voice, "YOU'RE WEAKER THAN YOU THINK!"

The force sent Sylar toppling over in to Matt Parkman. Matt pushed him away, glancing at Peter but the man looked like he had this under control. He gave him a quick nod before moving past him, towards Michael who was currently having the life beaten out of him by one of Danko's guards. Viciously, he grabbed the attacker and threw him on to the floor. Stunned, the man kicked him in the face which forced Matt backwards in to Michael who caught him.

"I think you should duck," he muttered to the man in front of him as the guard scrambled to his feet and limped towards them. Matt did as he said and Michael used his ability to make the guard a weak, shivering form on the cold floor.

Matt breathed heavily, rising to his proper height before bullets damaged the wall behind them and they both had to crouch quickly with their hands protecting them as they both ran for cover. Matt could spot Amy sat in the corner, a hand still pressed tightly to her wound. Beside her was a body in orange uniform. He frowned sadly. So they had claimed another victim. It wasn't surprising, but upsetting all the same. He hadn't even any time to find out who it had been. More bullets missed them by inches. Matt crawled by a nearby overturned table and beckoned Michael towards him in to safety.

"Maybe if I can concentrate, I can get whoever it is to stop shooting," Matt suggested, clutching at straws, suggesting what little ideas he had left.

"What? Concentrate in _this_? No way!" the green sparked from his palm, "Perhaps if I can spot who it is from here, I can get him and -"

"They'll shoot you," Matt breathed, "Maybe if we both -"

Interrupted in mid-sentence, a red-headed woman jumped out from behind them, turning around and shooting fire from her freckled hands. They could see the reflection of the fire twinkle in her eyes, her freckles dancing on her nose as she smiled a victorious smile.

Matt and Michael peered round to see the shooter shrieking and trying to put out his fiery clothes. Another one pulled off his bullet proof jacket and, ripping off his black jumper, aided him in putting out the flames. Unfortunately without the jacket, a bullet had hit him in the back and he toppled to the floor. Matt swallowed. The girl instantly ran off, flames alight in both palms. Matt stood and watched her fight off the enemy with her dangerous ability. One of Danko's men grabbed her and she shrieked loudly, fire erupting around her. Matt chased after her and tired to pull the man off of her. But it was too late. His hands were burnt and he collapsed on to the floor between the flames, screaming. They grew higher, the orange and yellow rising wildly. The girl glanced at Matt, terrified.

Matt felt water begin to pour on to him as the flames set the sprinklers off. He looked up, squinting as the liquid entered his eyes and soaked his hair. The fiery red-head was now on the floor, drenched and curled up in a pathetic ball. He dropped down beside her, lifting her head and moving her wet hair out of her green eyes, "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

He looked at her more closely and noticed steam coming from her body. She winced, eyes watering. Matt asked her what her name was.

"Jennifer," she sniffed, "Please. The water - it stops my power. It weakens me."

"Alright. It's okay, just stay with me. We'll get out of here." He took her hand and helped her up. Seconds later, he paused and indicated to Jennifer not to move. Jennifer stared at him, opening her mouth to ask what was wrong when the man turned around and grabbed on to the gun of one of Danko's men who had snuck up on them. He didn't seem to want to let go which meant the two men were stuck battling over it. Matt yanked it towards him, pulling the guard closer to him. The guard used every ounce of his strength and began to slowly turn the gun towards Matt, reaching for the trigger. Matt kicked him in the crotch and forced him back in to the wall, pushing the point of the weapon away from him and towards the guard. The weapon turned horizontal and Matt pushed it against the man's neck, strangling him. Jennifer witnessed this nervously, skin still steaming. The man weakened and let go of his grip, allowing Matt to lift the weapon and clobber him over the head with it. He fell to the floor, Matt breathing heavily and shaking the tension from his wrist.

"How did you know he was there?" she asked, shaking as the water seemed to fall faster.

Matt turned to look at her as he caught his breath, "I heard him."

BAM! The sound of Peter's head bashing against the pale wall stunned them. He slid downwards in to a small puddle, his hair dripping over his eyes, clothes already drenched. Matt rushed over to him,

"Are you okay?"

Peter held out his hand , warning him to stay back, his face a mixture of water and blood as it dripped down his cheeks, "I'm fine. I'm fine."

From a short distance, they looked over to see Sylar pull a large piece of glass from his bare torso, the wound healing instantaneously. He let his shirt drop, the blood with the addition of the sprinkler's water causing it to stick to his skin. Jennifer watched with horror. Sylar rolled his eyes, pushing back his soaked hair with annoyance before raising his hand to flick the pathetic woman to one side. Matt soon followed, flying to the opposite side of the room with a little assistance from Sylar.

Peter clenched his teeth together furiously before thundering towards Sylar, picking his feet off the ground and flying in to him, sending them both in to the wall behind. Sylar growled with pain as he fell in to a small puddle, rubbing his aching head. Peter quickly picked himself off the floor, shaking his wet hair out of his eyes. He wasn't sure if it was the coldness of the water or the excitement and anger he felt from the fight, but he shuddered violently. He suddenly felt very alive. With his hands out, he used Doyle's ability to make Sylar gently raise his hands and strangle himself. He choked, and continued to choke while Peter began to speak again,

"You're angry with me, I can sense it. Feel it. You're angry, always angry. But I don't think it's just me you're angry with," he snarled in a low voice. "Look at you, look at the person you've become. Look what you're doing, Gabriel," he made Sylar squeeze harder around his neck, "It doesn't have to be this way. The world _could _be a better place with you in it. But you continue to allow this _hunger _to destroy you. You're nothing but a monster," he turned his head sideways and smirked grimly, "So I'm going to destroy you before you destroy yourself and bring all of us down with you."

He made Sylar's grip tighten, his face turning an unnatural red. Sylar kicked his legs desperately, water splashing everywhere. He noticed the puddle extend to where Peter was standing, an idea surfacing in his mind. Biting down hard on his lip, he closed his eyes and focused through the unbearable choking sensation. Peter watched him with momentary confusion before noticing the electric blue surface from Sylar's skin. He released his grip, eyes widening. _Was he crazy? _

A scream erupted first from Sylar as the electric shocks pulsed through his damp body and travelled along the small pool of water towards Peter who instantly collapsed and yelled out in fits of pain. Sylar had already recovered by the time Peter had managed to overcome the agonising shocks and stop his body from thrashing about violently. He kicked the man's side violently before kneeling on his chest, forcing his weight on to him and causing him to fight for breath.

"You're right about one thing. I am angry with you. Furious, in fact," he leant down further, crushing him, "Ever since you stopped me from killing the damn cheerleader, every time I turn around there you are. Ruining everything," he spat, enjoying the desperation from the man below him as he struggled for his life, "I'm glad I'm not related to you, Peter. Because the hatred I feel for you is much stronger than any brotherly bond you could have hoped for. No matter what, it will ALWAYS come down to this. You and me. Killing each other. Enemies. Nothing more, nothing less," he shook his head, forcing down harder on Peter's chest, "I should have never trusted you. I came here to find out why I am the way I am, where I came from. Now my father's dead and I can never know. And it's all because of you."

Peter wheezed for breath, sweat dotting his forehead, "So this is all about your father," he spoke hoarsely, his voice barely above a whisper, "About me interfering with your little reunion."

Sylar stared at him fiercely, holding down Peter's arms as he struggled beneath him, "You had NO RIGHT!" he bellowed, "He was MY father! He abandoned me, betrayed me! He was MINE to kill! Not yours! You got him killed. I had finally found him and you killed him!"

Peter stared at him with little remorse, stiffening his jaw and ignoring the paralysing crushing pain on his chest, "You killed mine first."

Sylar loosened at that. Peter took this as an opportunity to push the man away and kick him off of him. He jumped to his feet and gasped deeply for air. But before he had time to fully recover from the attack, he felt a body crash in to him and send him flying through the window, the glass smashing and the shards piercing his flesh. He could feel angry hands grab at him as he felt himself fall, the cold air hitting his face, his hair, his clothes. And then there was no more falling. Just excruciating pain as they met what was at the bottom.

BAM!

Nathan felt his head knock back at the impact, then the agonising burning sensation in his cheek followed. Luke held on to him as best as he could. He could struggle all he liked. There was nowhere for him to go. And it wasn't like Tracy was going to let him off the hook so easy.

"I can't see how this is going to accomplish anything," Nathan muttered before feeling another blow from Tracy's icy fist.

"We were so close to getting out of here," Tracy growled furiously, "Now here we are, trapped inside this bubble being shot at by a bunch of uniforms working for a psychopath."

She glanced outside at the intimidating men. They didn't seem to be giving up. Bullets continued bouncing off the shield but the men only reloaded and continued their vicious rampage.

"I know," he replied weakly, attempting to shake off Luke, "I have told you that I want to help. Obviously Danko has figured out that I've switched sides."

"Ha," Tracy scorned, "Switched sides? You still want to experiment on us, you still want to turn our powers off. Maybe a couple of months ago I would have been all for that. But things have changed now. THIS is wrong!"

"I realise that," Nathan wiped the blood from his cut lip, "And I promise you I will fix this. I just need to get to Danko."

"Why should we believe you?" Tracy watched him with a stern gaze, folding her arms.

Nathan sucked in a breath, "Like I said, I've seen what happens. I saw my future. And I know if I was to continue this I would lose everything that's important to me," his hand fell softly upon her arm and he gripped it gently, "You know me. I know I was wrong and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he turned his attention to everybody, "For all the pain and fear I have caused you all. I will fix this because I _need _to fix it. Trust me," his gaze fell upon Tracy once more, "Please."

Tracy stared at him, her blue eyes piercing through him like blades attacking flesh. It was true, she did know him. And it was hard to see why Nathan would lie to her at this point. He seemed very sincere and, as well as feeling sick to her stomach, she couldn't help feeling as though he needed her trust. That he _needed_ her to believe him. Perhaps he did want to stop this after all.

"What do you propose we do?" she replied after a few moments of thought. Some of the group looked outraged, particularly young Luke.

"Are you crazy? He did this to us, man!" he spluttered, holding his arms out to emphasise his disagreement.

"We have no choice," she told him sternly, "He could stop all of this," she looked back over at Nathan who had recovered from his beating and was looking at Tracy gratefully, "Got any ideas, _Senator_?"

Nathan glanced at the men outside nervously. He was good with words but that wouldn't help him as long as they were wasting ammo on that shield and trying their best to kill them. Even the unexplained triggering of the sprinklers hadn't affected them.

Abi pressed the cloth to her neck, blood dampening it as she whimpered quietly to herself. She served as a critical reminder that they needed to get out of here. Fast.

There was a small cough and that familiar red-head emerged again. The one they knew as 'The Illusionist', "I suppose I can help," he shrugged, "Now I pretty much have full use of my lungs again."

Nathan stared at him curiously, "And what are you going to do?"

The Illusionist gave him an annoyed sideways glance, "I'm going to trick them just as I tricked you. Easy."

Nathan shook his head, "How?"

"Watch."

He closed his eyes and focused on his task, his eyes moving fast behind his eyelids. They watched as his jaw stiffened, his teeth clenched together with concentration. Nathan wrinkled his nose as he watched critically, unsure of the man. But not long later he began to notice a change in the men outside. They dropped their weapons, crying out and grabbing at their throats, stomachs, legs. They wilted slowly to the floor, shouting out in what seemed like agony. Nathan felt a wave of nausea wash over him and his heart raced.

"You're killing them. Stop, they're dying!"

The Illusionist opened one eye and looked at the Senator with an emotionless glance, "They _think _they're dying. It's all in their heads."

Nathan turned his attention back to the men. He was right. There was no blood, no physical signs of injury. What these men were experiencing was all part of their imagination. Amazing.

Whilst the men were distracted, the shield retracted and Nathan beckoned the group towards a door, the water falling fast and instantly soaking them, "Follow me. I'll get you out of here. Then I'll talk to Danko. You won't have to worry about running for much longer, I assure you."

Tracy sucked in a breath. She hoped she had done the right thing in trusting Nathan again. He did seem to be their only hope after all. She had no idea what was going on with Peter, Matt and Mohinder; whether they were injured, or even alive. She could only hope they would be alright.

Nathan ushered the group to the stairs where everyone ran down in a panic. He put an arm round Abi and helped her down the steps, her fingers still pressing the bloody cloth to her wound. She was drowsy, but she would make it.

Once they had reached the bottom, Nathan lead the way to one of the emergency exits. Catching his breath, he raised a hand, "Wait here." He opened the door slightly with his free hand and peered round it, still supporting Abi on his other arm. All seemed clear, "Come on."

They crept outside, the afternoon sky looking over them with some sort of mocking serenity. Everyone gathered round and caught their breaths, scanning their surroundings, hearts beating wildly. Nathan looked around him and handed Abi to The Illusionist. He gave a quick nod to Tracy before springing up and taking off, his feet leaving the ground below him and his body launching high up in to the air. The group gasped and watched in awe.

"So the Senator can fly," shrugged The Illusionist, readjusting his grip on Abi, "Not the most unsettling thing I've seen today, I have to admit."

A few moments later and Nathan came back in for landing, feet meeting the ground in the middle of the group. He caught his breath once again, "All is clear so long as you go down this route and stick to the back streets," he pointed across the large concrete area and towards the back of another building. Next to it was a small passage; their escape route, "I suggest you get her to a hospital," he nodded towards the weakened Abi who was now leaning on 'The Illusionist' for support, "Otherwise you should get as far away as possible. And be careful. I doubt Danko will listen to me and I might not be able to contact the president to pull the plug on this operation for some time. Do you think you'll be able to take it from here?"

Tracy raised her head suspiciously, "How can you trust us? What if we leave and tell the world what we've been through here today? Won't look good so good for you, will it?"

Nathan bit his lip, scratching at his stubble before dropping his hand to his side, "Tracy, I've made a lot of mistakes. All I want to do is amend for what I've done, to put things right. You can understand that, right?"

Tracy stared at him. Somehow she knew she wouldn't be the one to blab to the press about this. She didn't need to ruin Nathan's reputation. He was perfectly capable of doing that himself. And he HAD risked his life to save them. Better late than never, right?

"Thanks," she mumbled, the tiniest smile surfacing upon her lips. She took a step back, addressing the rest of the group, "Let's go."

They quickly hurried off to freedom, away from Building 26 and all that they had suffered during their time there. Luke hung back with his hands in his pockets, a serious glare upon his face. He looked up at Nathan,

"I want to stay here."

Nathan scorned at the boy, shaking his head, "I'm sorry but I don't think so," he indicated to the bloody bandage around his arm, "By the looks of it you've been scraped up pretty badly already."

"Don't patronise me. I'm a part of this as much as everybody else. Yeah, I wanted to go home. I thought there was nothing left for me here. But there's nothing there either. I want to stay here and fight."

"This isn't a game," Nathan said more sternly, glancing around him quickly before meeting Luke's gaze with a hard glare, "You could get killed in there."

"Then I'll get killed." He shrugged and let his eyes drop to the floor, "Like I said, I got nothing else."

Nathan breathed a heavy sigh, "Well, I can't _make_ you do anything now. Do what you want. It's your funeral."

Nathan turned around to head back inside. Luke sported a satisfied smirk and followed him quickly back in to Building 26.

tbc


	14. Chapter 14

_**Chapter 14**_

_**Peter Petrelli and Sylar**_

_**Outside Building 26, Present Day**_

Everything was black. And red. And nothing seemed to stand still. It was all one big motion blur, dreamy and disorientating.

Peter's head pounded and all he could hear was an overwhelming ringing in his ears. That and his muffled heart beat, pulsing inside his chest. That's when he noticed. A sharp, rocky object poking through his stomach, red blood surrounding it. He looked away briefly, trying to calm himself and rid of the sudden wave of nausea that threatened to overpower him. He placed his hand over the large rock, feeling its rough surface before closing his eyes. _Okay. One. Two. Three._

He pushed down hard on the rock, using his other hand to support his body and lift himself upwards. His eyes closed together tightly, fighting the pain. He bit down hard on his lip, holding his breath and trying to ignore the agonising torture.

He heard footsteps approach him and he relaxed again, having failed in removing the object from his wound. His hands were crimson and his face, a pale white. But he looked his enemy in the eyes, breathing deeply.

"Go on then. Do it," he murmured weakly, blood beginning to drip from his mouth. Was this it? Was this James' vision? He had no scar but was this possibly how he was going to die? Sylar, finishing him off after a bad fall and a sharp rock through the stomach? The cold wind made him shiver, his wound still bleeding excessively and the pain paralysing him.

Sylar glared at him, raising his hand and pointing his finger towards Peter's head. He had no words. Just the desire to finish what he had started. He had scarcely begun to cut when the scene around them changed and they were no longer outside of Building 26, but in a homely living room with stripy yellow wallpaper and pictures on the walls and ornaments placed neatly on little tables.

Sylar spun around with confusion. Peter weakly got to his feet, the wound already healed and the energy slowly returning back to him.

"Which one of us is doing this?" Sylar demanded angrily.

Peter caught his breath and shook his head gently, "I didn't think you COULD do anything like this," he looked around slowly, "No, it must be me."

"How can you be sure?"

Peter took one last look around and drew in another breath, "Because this is the living room of the house I grew up in."

A beat of silence. Sylar shook his head, "What, so we just teleported here?" He watched Peter walk over to the door and try and open it. No such luck, it was locked. He than made his way over to the window and pulled back the curtains. Outside appeared to be a large field of emptiness. It was dark too, not a street lamp or headlight in sight. This definitely wasn't the city.

"I think it must be Parkman's ability," he muttered, still breathing deeply, "It may look and feel real but it's not. I'll try and get us back. "

"Don't bother," Sylar smirked, "It doesn't matter where I kill you." He eyed a silver medieval-looking sword on the wall, "Interesting choice of decoration."

Peter watched him carefully, "You like swords?"

He took it down from the wall and felt the blade with the tip of his finger, drawing blood. The cut healed instantly, "Not really. But something's occurred to me. You're a lot stronger than I thought. As long as you have Claire's ability, no matter what I do to you, you'll just heal and be as good as new."

"Hence the stalemate," Peter folded his arms patiently, watching the other man with curiosity.

"Then I thought," he continued, "Without that crucial element that keeps allowing the rest of your body to regenerate, you'd be like any other poor sap I've killed. Easy."

Peter nodded, biting the inside of his cheek, "So you want to behead me? With a sword?"

"Sounds fun, doesn't it?"

He raised his eyebrows and smiled at him, "How'd you know I won't just grow a new head?"

He held the sword out threateningly, tilting his head to one side, "Only one way to find out."

Nathan pushed back his wet hair with frustration. The sprinklers hadn't stopped yet and he muttered to himself angrily. Luke trailed behind, glancing around him suspiciously.

"The Hell you think's happening with the others?" Luke asked, catching up to Nathan and staying close to him.

"No idea," Nathan replied, biting his lip, "But probably nothing good. This is exactly what I was afraid would -"

He suddenly felt hands grab at him and throw him in to a wall. Not again! Nathan didn't have time for this. He struggled viciously, raising his elbow and thumping the person behind with it. They backed away and Nathan charged him, kicking him down on to the floor.

He turned quickly to see what had become of Luke, but the little squirt had already made a run for it. He rolled his eyes, turning back to the man on the floor, "You," he demanded, "Where's Danko?"

Sylar leapt towards Peter with the sword, lunging at him. He dodged him and rolled to one side, heart racing at the near-miss. Growling, Sylar turned and used telekinesis to pin him to the wall. Peter struggled to move his arms but they seemed indented to the wall, impossible to move. Sylar was furious and Peter knew all too well he was strongest when he was angry. He watched as the man stormed over to him like a vicious animal preparing to attack its prey. He raised the weapon and struck.

A sharp noise echoed throughout the room as Peter managed to break one arm free and use it to grab the end of the sword, cutting his hand in the process. Sylar attempted to pull it away but, with an immense struggle, Peter fought to free his other arm and he eventually used both to turn the weapon away from him.

"Let go," Sylar demanded furiously, using all his strength to prise the weapon away from his enemy's grip.

"Make me," barked Peter continuing to force the sharp object in the opposite direction.

Luke made his way up the stairs quickly before reaching the door and meeting a familiar gloomy corridor. He waded through the puddles of water on the floor and arrived at the double doors. There seemed to be less bodies on the floor now which prompted Luke to be even more suspicious. He glanced around him quickly before kicking the doors open and rushing back in to the prisoner's room. There were puddles on the floor, the sprinklers continuing to soak everything. Cots were on the ground too, along with the breathing tubes and destroyed machines that were placed next to them. His eyes scanned the room.

He searched for that ice figure. Samson. He felt drawn to him, he couldn't leave without him. But as he searched, he felt his breathing pace increase and he let out a small cry. He wasn't here.

Nathan wiped the blood from his fist and rushed down the corridor urgently. God knows what Danko and his men were doing to Peter. He'd be lucky if he hadn't been killed by now. And with Sylar in the building, he had a nasty sickly feeling in the pit of his stomach. Now, like all the others, he just wanted this nightmare to be over. Start a fresh. Do things right.

He pushed open another door and his eyes lit up briefly before his facial features darkened once more. Emile Danko was standing some distance ahead of him. He almost didn't notice the horrifying sight in front of him. A battle of some sort. The specials fighting Danko's men. Nathan's men. Except they wouldn't listen to Nathan anymore. Not until he got rid of Danko. His features sharpened as he felt himself thunder towards the man in a fit of rage.

He grabbed his shoulder and spun him around, shoving him against the plain wall and holding him against it threateningly, "You back-stabbing son of a bitch."

Danko seemed somewhat surprised to see him. But once the initial shock had subsided, his features reanimated in to a pompous smirk, "As I recall, _Senator, _it was _you_ who betrayed _me_. First by lying to me and then by trying to help the people we've put so much effort in to catching to begin with."

"You're going to stop this. Let these people go now."

"Are you insane?" Danko spluttered, "It's too late! You brought me here for a reason and I intend to finish what I started!"

Nathan shook him violently, "Stop this or I will!"

"And how do you intend to do that?"

Nathan kneed him in the crotch and Danko collapsed with pain, yelling out furiously. Two guards came to his aid but Nathan flew himself up towards the ceiling.

"What the - ?"

The two men stared upwards with amazement. Danko glared up at him from the floor, "Sonofabitch." It was one thing to know about such a thing, but to see it in action was quite different.

An instant later and the Senator came shooting downwards, kicking one man in to the other and sending them both hurtling to the floor.

Danko had just got to his feet again when Nathan pushed him in to the wall before the two others recovered, "Last chance," he barked at him angrily.

"I'm sick of this game," Danko retorted, lips close to Nathan's ears, "I can't stop this now. Not knowing what I do. I'll kill everyone in this building if I have to," he sneered, taking pleasure in Nathan's frustrated reaction.

One, two, three times Peter had managed to stab Sylar in that greasy meat-suit of his. He took a sort of disturbed pleasure in feeling the sword dig in and seeing that defeated look on the evil man's face. However, once the weapon was removed - and it would always be removed, one way or another - Sylar was as good as new, just as he said Peter would be unless his head was in some way removed from his body. Perhaps the man was right. Sylar wasn't going to stop until he had Peter's head. And he _couldn't _be stopped until his own brain was disconnected from the rest of him. It looked like one of them was going to lose their head today, quite literally..

Peter felt a foot kick him in the chest and he found himself flying in to the coffee table, china plates and ornaments smashing to the floor. A blurry figure emerged over him, the silvery object in hand. He raised it. Peter's heart stopped. Sylar breathed deeply and loudly, beginning to let out an angry cry as he struck with the weapon for the last time with such a force it unnerved even him.

Peter shut his eyes tightly. Hell, nothing could have prepared him for such a violent outburst. Admittedly, Sylar was scary. But at that moment, he was the scariest he had ever seen him. He tried his hardest to move away but it was too late. The only movement he managed to make was turning his head slightly to the right, at the same time screaming so loudly the amplified sound sent Sylar falling back slightly.

Nathan threw the guard in to the wall, returning back to Danko's weakened frame. He wiped the blood from his nose, wrapped a hand around the man's neck and squeezed.

It was then he heard a piercing scream. It was torturous, terrifying. It was Peter! His eyes snapped to the open window on the other side of the room. The broken glass around it spoke for itself. He ran towards it and peered outside. _Peter?_

Sylar stepped back and observed his handiwork. Peter lay trembling, his hands red with blood. On his face, from his right eye to his left cheek, was a bloody red mark. It was bound to scar. The man was hardly recognisable until he wiped the blood from his face with his sleeve, wincing at the pain. He pulled back his arm and examined the profuse amount of blood on his sleeve. Somehow he knew exactly what had happened, and what now scarred his face.

"It always had to be you," he spat hatefully, the blood still dripping down his face. The pain radiating, burning through his skin.

Sylar seemed somewhat surprised, "Why aren't you healing?"

"I told you," he breathed shakily, his red eyes narrowing, "It looks and feels real, but it isn't."

Sylar stared at him. He hadn't noticed he was back outside Building 26. The sword disappeared from his hand and the scar had faded from Peter's face. He was still on the floor, the rock piercing through his stomach. He let his head drop on to the gravel, closing his eyes and breathing the cold air deeply.

"No," Sylar mumbled standing in front of him in disbelief, "Fine, I'll do it the usual way." He raised his hand and began to slice across Peter's neck, more blood seeping from the fresh wound. But before he could get any deeper, a figure swooped down and knocked him over.

Peter looked up weakly, "Nathan?"

Nathan didn't respond, didn't even exchange a look with him. He focused purely on Sylar and beating the crap out of him. He kicked him violently over and over. Sylar grabbed his foot and pulled him down with him, and the two-man fight continued.

Peter watched with panic. There was no way Nathan could take on Sylar, and Nathan had no way of healing! He tried again to free himself from the rock, wincing with pain as the sharp stone rubbed against his wound and his insides. He bit hard on his bottom lip to try and restrain himself from yelling out. During his struggle, the scar on his face kept appearing and disappearing, the scene around them alternating between Building 26 and the old Petrelli Household. His brain was screaming at him and it showed. Reality seemed to be slipping further and further away and he had difficulty controlling it.

Nathan rolled on to Sylar, using both his fists to smash in to his face. Sylar threw him off with ease and Nathan landed on the ground a few metres away.

"Nathan!" Peter cried, his head spinning so fast he could hardly comprehend what was happening.

Nathan jumped to his feet with a low snarl and charged Sylar, raising him up in to the air. Peter glanced up, squinting as he watched them fly higher and higher until they were mere dots among the clouds. Then, one dot grew larger and larger until he could see clearly a figure come hurtling down, smashing in to the ground below. Sylar squirmed and groaned, the ground dented from his fall. Peter was amazed he was still conscious. A moment later he noticed Nathan land gently on the ground beside him. He began to circle him slowly as the other man moaned to himself, cradling his temporary wounds.

Peter wasn't entirely sure what happened next, but he heard a loud shudder and a bang, accompanied by some voices. It wasn't that of Nathan's, or Sylar's, but it sounded familiar nonetheless.

"You think I'd be finished that easily?" He heard a dripping noise too, as if the person was sopping wet. It could have been anyone from inside; the sprinklers soaked everyone.

"You're not dead," Sylar said with difficulty yet surprise as he struggled to his feet.

Peter strained his eyes. He could see Nathan pinned to the brick wall opposite, obviously in pain from the invisible force that held him there. His eyes glanced over to Sylar who stood with his back to him, focusing entirely on the figure in front of him. Peter could just make out an older man with a beard, hunched over and dripping with water. He trembled violently yet still seemed perfectly in control of his actions. He had a sinister grin that made Peter want to avert his gaze. And then he realised who he was.

Impossible! Wasn't it? He had seen the man freeze right in front of his very eyes. His limbs became ice and his body was encased in the frozen prison, impossible to escape. He had assumed his heart had stopped and the body, shut down. Yet here the man was, standing right in front of them, alive and furious. Samson Gray, back to finish what he and his murderous son had started.

Samson looked terrible; his eyes were bloodshot, his flesh was sore and pink, his hair a frizzy untamed mess. He looked like a madman, and he probably was one. His invisible grip on Nathan tightened. Peter struggled, feeling nauseous and dizzy.

"Look what you've done to me, boy," Samson growled, glaring at his son, "Look! For years and years I couldn't have cared less about you. And now you've woken up something in me I've been trying to suppress all this time."

"What _I've_ done?" scorned Sylar, returning the scowl, "You did this to yourself. You're pathetic. I've seen how you've been living, what a monster you are."

"Like father like son," he smirked, and Sylar shocked him with a fresh bolt of electricity.

"I am NOTHING like you. I may share your blood, have those same desires and urges. But you - you're weak, pathetic."

"I never wanted a fight with you," Samson grit his teeth together tightly, recovering from the attack, "You're right, I am weak. I'm sick. I'm dying." Sylar stared at him. "It comes from living the life I do, and one day you'll end up just like me," he told him, "But dammit, boy. Why couldn't you just let me die in peace?"

"You don't deserve peace," Sylar responded darkly. And for the hundredth time, a violent fight ensued.

Peter tried to shield himself from the blinding lights and flying objects that flew his way. Loud bangs and screams and crashes deafened him. His wound was getting worse; it needed to heal. But as long as he was impaled, stuck like this, he couldn't regenerate. His face had paled and the unbelievable pain started to turn in to numbness. It was only when a panicked Nathan scrambled over to him and spoke his name reassuringly that he began to feel safe again.

"Peter, look at me!" He turned his younger brother's head towards him. The light in his eyes was fading and his skin was shockingly pale. He seemed like a ghost. The dark red blood that pooled around him was a horrifying contrast, "Tell me you can heal, Peter. Tell me you're able to heal!" When his brother didn't answer, Nathan grabbed his cold hands and squeezed them, "I'm going to pull you up, okay? On the count of three."

He tightened his grip on his brother, "One."

He stepped back, readying himself, almost hesitating, "Two."

Ignoring the fight behind him he secured his grip on Peter's arms and began to pull him up vigorously, "Three!"

Peter flew in to his arms and Nathan caught him, holding on to him and patting his back gently as his brother began to regenerate. He could feel the wound repairing itself, growing new flesh and sewing together the deformed tissue that had been damaged. He could scarcely breathe. In fact, he didn't. But after it was over, he took in as many deep breaths as he could, gripping on tightly to his older brother's shoulders and feeling the colour return to his cheeks.

They could hear the argument not far from where they were standing. This was nothing short of a nightmare. Except, obviously, this was stone cold reality.

"Can't you see I was doing what's best for you?" Samson growled as Sylar pinned him threateningly against the brick wall, "I would have made a terrible father."

"What's best for me?" he scorned, "Liar. You seem to have had a wonderful time playing Happy Families with that brat, Luke. He seems to think the world of you. You should have heard him tell me these idyllic stories about you, it was sickening."

He threw him to the ground. Samson breathed heavily, "Luke was my second chance. I told you, I tried to change. And I felt like I had to make up for my past mistakes with you."

"Why didn't you find me?" shouted Sylar angrily, "I was your son! Not some random kid you met on the street one day. I'm your own flesh and blood."

"Oh, please," Samson rolled his eyes, "Do you really think I'd waste my time on some random boy I met at a baseball game or something?" A beat of silence, "He's my kid too. I met his mom at a bar one night several years ago and…" Sylar froze, his eyes darting from side to side quickly with thought.

"No," he whispered.

"We were both young and as we know, men like us are pretty impulsive. Then the girl tells me she's goddamn pregnant. And there we have it. We were never really a family but something about that kid made me wanna change. Like I said, he was my second chance. Was still kinda a crummy father though, kid doesn't even know I'm his dad. "

Sylar pushed back his hair, appearing more and more distressed with every word, "No!"

Samson shrugged, "Wish I could tell you what you wanna hear. But truth is, you never really crossed my mind. But Luke? If it was family you're looking for, he'd be your best bet. He's your brother after all."

A few deep breaths and Sylar looked like he was about to explode. This was too much information to handle. With a furious yell he attacked again, shocking the man with the blue electricity and shouting abuse at him. It just couldn't be true!

The brothers watched curiously from a safer distance, Peter finally recovering and returning to reality. His vision blurred out of focus slightly and his eyes fell upon a familiar figure. He stepped back quickly.

"Nathan."

"Are you okay?" his brother asked him with concern.

.

"I came here to stop you, all of you."

Nathan nodded, "I got that," he indicated to the battle beside them, "And you thought bringing him was a good idea?"

Peter's heart beat faster, "I did what I had to."

"Look, it doesn't have to be this way anymore."

"Don't."

"Don't what? I'm only trying to help," he stepped forward.

Peter stepped back, "Stop it, Nathan!" He knew now that Nathan wasn't the monster he thought him to be. But when he set his mind to something, he was always very persistent. And he had a way with words. He didn't want to listen to his brother's empty speeches about how much he cared for him and wanted him to be on his side, that what he was doing was for the greater good and that he and Danko would make the world a better, special ability-free place. Nathan wanted to make him ordinary, and Peter wasn't sure whether he could stop him anymore. He was alone, he was tired. And his head felt like it was about to implode on itself.

"Will you listen to me?"

Peter felt his warm head with his palm, feeling the long indented mark across his face. It wasn't real, but it burned in to his face as if he were branded with it forever. Perhaps not physically, but mentally at least. It seemed as if it would always be there.

"God, Peter. What the Hell?"

He stepped closer and Peter shoved him away before taking off and flying high in to the air. Nathan bit his tongue and followed him, leaving the battles below.

"PETER!" he bellowed as the cold air hit Nathan's face. But the boy wouldn't slow down, he flew onwards, further and further away. He swerved and dived and picked up his speed; Nathan wandered when it was that his brother became better at flying than himself.

He reached out a hand and tried to grab his foot but, noticing this, Peter kicked him away and dropped his height slightly. Nathan followed, "Stop this!" he yelled as loudly as he could, unsure if his brother could even hear him.

"Leave me alone, Nathan," replied Peter, "I can't confront you, not now!"

"You're not going to save all those people back there by running away from them are you?" Nathan shouted back, hoping his words would have an effect. It seemed to do just that, and Peter slowed down slightly. Nathan took this as an opportunity. He caught up and grabbed him, losing control and sending them both tumbling down in to a small forested area.

When Nathan had gathered himself and had struggled to his feet again, he approached Peter who was currently fighting to catch his breath on the soft ground.

"Why?" he asked panting.

"Why what?"

"Why did you do all this, Nathan?" he clarified, sitting up and staring at him "Why did you do this to us?"

Nathan sighed, "I'll tell you why," he knelt down beside him, "I was never quite sure what to make of these…powers. I just wanted to pretend they were never there," he paused a beat, "When I was taken prisoner in Haiti, those two girls I was with were so…helpless. Powerless. I couldn't help thinking how unfair it was. I wanted to help them and I thought dad and Primatech were the only way…the only way to change all of that, to make everyone equal and able to defend themselves," he shook his head and swallowed, "But I was thinking too much about the girls, and not about their attackers. If they didn't have those abilities, they wouldn't have been capable of such things - they wouldn't have been next to unstoppable. People like that, and people like Sylar, are why I chose to do this. So then they wouldn't be capable of such power anymore, and to prevent them from hurting more innocent people."

"But they can be a good thing too, Nathan," protested Peter, "If it wasn't for you and your ability, half of New York would be in ashes right now."

"And if it hadn't have been for you and your abilities, none of that would have happened anyway. There would have never been any danger of you destroying half the city, I wouldn't have had to save your ass, spend months in the hospital with my face in ruins and have my wife take my kids away from me."

"So you're blaming me for your divorce now?" Peter got to his feet angrily.

Nathan stood too, "No, I'm just thinking of the bigger picture. I'm trying to explain what drove me to such extreme lengths. I don't expect that my answer is justifiable, and I don't expect you to forgive me. But I want you to know," he continued, tone becoming even more serious, "I know where this will lead now. And I want to stop it just as much as you do."

"You do realise I can't trust you," Peter muttered, "Not yet."

Nathan nodded, "I just want you to help me. Danko, he's in charge now. He's controlling everything."

"I know," Peter frowned.

"So, we're on the same team here?" Nathan asked warily, "We both want the same thing."

Peter nodded gently, still eyeing Nathan with a sense of caution, "Let's finish him off," he shifted his weight from one side to the other and stared at Nathan so closely, the older man could almost see his own shallow, miserable reflection in his brother's eye, "But don't for one second think this makes everything okay. Don't just assume things will go back to how they used to be. What you did…I'm not sure I can forgive you for that."

Nathan nodded solemnly, wanting to form a response but being unable to. Peter gave him one last glance before setting off again and flying high in to the sky. With a shaky sigh, Nathan followed shortly afterwards.

TBC - one more chapter!


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

**Peter and Nathan Petrelli**

**Building 26**

By the time they got back, the violent duo had gone, leaving behind a trail of destruction. Debris was lying everywhere, the ground burnt and destroyed. They both flew in through the window and climbed in to the building. The sprinklers had stopped but a shallow pool of water remained throughout the building. Apart from the many bloodied corpses and unconscious bodies, the brothers were surprised to find the room empty. Peter glanced around the room grimly whilst Nathan waded through the water and beckoned him towards the exit.

"They've got to be around here somewhere."

They stopped dead in their tracks when they heard a low scream. Picking up their pace, they raced to the source of the noise and approached Danko's office within the abandoned control room, stumbling upon a group; Peter's group. Among the small sea of orange uniforms, they noticed Danko unwillingly pointing a gun to his head and a large bloodied frown across his face. Matt, unsurprisingly, was stood not far away. Mohinder, having just hit Danko, shook the pain from his fist and turned to face their newcomers,

"Ah, there you are."

"What are you doing?" Peter asked, taken aback by the sight.

"Finishing what we started," Matt mumbled, making sure Danko still had the gun pressed to his head.

Nathan stepped forward, "Let's think about this."

"There's nothing to think about," Matt snapped, "Because of this guy, our lives have been Hell, Daphne's lying in a hospital bed with bullet wounds, and three of us have been killed."

Peter swallowed. Well, he couldn't say he hadn't expected this. Everyone had been prepared for the dangers, but they had hoped everyone could have gotten out of this alive.

"He tried to escape when he realised he was running out of men. The rest of them took off like the cowards they were," added Mohinder bitterly. Peter noticed the cuts on his face, "We're trying to decide what to do with him."

"Well killing me won't do much good," Danko barked.

"At least we'd get some justice," Michael retorted.

"_I'll_ deal with him," Nathan suggested, "I just need to explain all this to the president and the nightmare will be over. But don't worry, he'll get what he deserves."

"And how do we know we can trust you?" Matt pointed out resentfully, "Not long ago you wouldn't let me take a dying woman to the hospital. Now you expect us to believe you've changed your mind about the whole thing?"

Nathan sucked in a breath, "I still stand by my reasoning but the way this turned out - it shouldn't have happened. I'm sorry. I can only give you my word that this will never happen again. I'm on your side."

"Well, maybe your word isn't good enough," Michael spat, the green static forming between his fingers.

"Michael," Mohinder warned, raising a hand, "Look, this isn't over until we decide what to do with Danko."

"We need to kill him! Just like he tried to kill us!" Jennifer cried, her curly red hair still sopping wet.

"He's a monster," another man added.

"Just like Senator fly-boy over there."

"Do you have any idea what we've been through?"

"So you all want to kill him?" Peter asked loudly, "You want to sink to his level?"

"Peter, I saw the look of fury in your eyes when you attacked him. You can't tell me you didn't want to kill him right then and there, even if you never intended to."

Peter sighed, "Is this what you want, Mohinder?" Mohinder didn't answer. "Matt? You want to kill him?"

Matt fidgeted slightly, "He could've got Daphne killed," he said slowly, though avoiding the question.

"Just, let Nathan do his thing and call all of this off. Then we'll deal with Danko." Peter nodded at Nathan. He nodded back gratefully, pulling out his mobile phone.

Danko fidgeted with agitation, "So that's it? Game over? You told me how much you wanted this, _Nathan_," Danko told him in his rough voice, "You wanted these people gone just as much as I did. Hell, you were even too ashamed to admit you were one of them. Such a hypocrite that you'd do these things to your friends and family but not yourself!"

Mohinder almost punched him again but hesitated - he was telling the truth after all. Even if he was trying to turn them against each other.

Nathan raised the phone to his ear, "This is going to end badly for you, Danko."

His face darkened, "You have no idea what you're doing. Don't you see? Everyone knows this was your fault now. The minute these people walk out that door to their freedom, they're going to realise something. That they hate you and everything you've put them through," he said slowly, "Doesn't matter how sorry you are. You put them through Hell. You took them away from their homes, their families. You were going to cut open their brains, take away who they were without their consent. No one's going to be okay with that. Not even your own brother can forgive you for that," he shot a dirty look at Peter and received the same look back, "You're not safe if you make that phone call. The war's not over. Yeah, I might be first on their hit list. But you'll be next. Trust me, we've made a lot of powerful enemies since this thing started. This won't end well for either of us."

Nathan breathed heavily for a few moments, slowly pulling the phone away from his ear. He lowered his head in thought, "Could everyone please leave us for a moment."

Peter shook his head, "Don't listen to him," he told his brother.

"Please," Nathan repeated, hardly looking anyone in the eye, "Just for a moment."

With plenty of hesitation, the group slowly began to file out of the room. Peter resisted for a moment, watching them with concern, "I'll be right out here," he mumbled before closing the door and leaving them to it.

Nathan swallowed, taking the gun from Danko's reach and gently shifting his weight from one side to the other, "You really believe that they'll come after us? Start revenge killing?"

"I know it," Danko responded quickly, lowering his hand, "I've seen it happen before. It's always the same."

Nathan handled the gun carefully before placing it on the desk, "Then what do you suggest we do?"

"We leave. Start again. Learn from what happened here."

Nathan looked up with a small shrug, "And we just….do this all over again?"

Danko bit his lip, "Like I said, we'd learn from our mistakes. Do things properly. And the deal still stands, Senator."

Nathan laughed grimly, "The deal," he scorned, "What do you take me for? An idiot?" A sudden fierce took over his features and he grabbed Danko's weak form, shoving him through the glass of the window, the shards flying everywhere and piercing his skin. Nathan grabbed his neck and pushed him almost halfway out.

"You hurt those people, killed some of them. You wanted my brother dead so you could continue this sick ploy of yours," he squeezed harder around his neck, "You double crossed me, Danko. Do you think I'm going to let it happen again?"

Through splutters and cries, Danko managed to utter, "This was your idea, your plan."

"I was wrong," admitted Nathan, softening slightly, "And look where this has got us. But I will never let you threaten me or my family again," he barked viciously, "Understand? I will make sure you are punished for everything you have done."

He choked, face reddening, "And what punishment do you get?"

Nathan stared at him, loosening slightly.

"Face it. This is your fault as much as it is mine. You're telling me you never hurt anyone to get a bigger job done? We have both made sacrifices," he breathed deeply, "And we both sacrifice in order to get where we have to go. This is why I was chosen for this, why we're the same."

And there it was. The very thing Nathan didn't want to hear, that he refused to believe, "I am NOTHING like you, understand?" he shouted, "I am not a manipulative, careless scumbag who will kill anyone who gets in my way! I'm not a monster, Danko!"

"You sure?" he mumbled, his voice scratchy.

Nathan punched him. Hard. So hard he almost let the man fall out of the window if it wasn't for his other hand squeezing tightly around his neck. Every time he looked in to those stony eyes of his, he saw such anger and hatred. He saw all the threats he had made, the evil he had done. And in them, Nathan's own selfishness and anger reflected. And it made him sick. He hit him again, breaking his nose. Danko cried out with pain, his head still half-way out of the window. Nathan squeezed tighter round his neck and hit him again. And again.

He didn't even notice at first the pain exploding from his shoulder as Danko pierced a shard of glass right through it; his last attempt at freedom. Nathan yelled out in agony, stepping back slightly and pressing his hands to the bloody wound as Danko tried to scramble to safety. Hearing the commotion, Peter pushed open the door just in time to see a desperate Danko claw at the frame of the window. He felt himself falling backwards. An ear piercing scream echoed through their minds. Peter ran forwards. Nathan beat him to it. But it was too late. By the time they had both reached it, Danko had already fallen to his death. They peered down out the muddy ground and saw him, that same sinister smirk still etched across his face like a permanent imprint of his evil.

They both frowned. Peter could feel his brother shivering and noticed the blood stains on his shirt, "What happened?"

Nathan frowned, staring at the body below, "We argued. He stabbed me and I…he just…fell."

Peter quickly examined the wound, Nathan wincing at the contact, "You'll be fine," he told him, turning his gaze solemnly to Danko's corpse outside, "Can't say the same for him though."

"What happened? Where's Danko?" They heard Mohinder ask from the door, the rest of the group crowding behind him.

Peter and Nathan turned to look at him, a little unsure how to explain. But Peter swallowed and told him all he needed to know, "It's over," he said simply, glancing briefly at Nathan who returned the look with guilty eyes.

"It's over?" Matt repeated, surfacing from the control room outside, "We're free?"

Peter nodded softly, "Like I said. It's over. Right?" he looked at Nathan again who nodded too, clarifying the situation, "We won't have to worry about running anymore. Mr. _Danko _won't be bothering any of us again," he added, eyeing the body outside again as if he feared the man might simply get up and make his escape. But the body lay silently, a pool of blood forming beside it. The eyes, still cold and stony, stared back up at him with an eerie element of life to them. But the man was gone. For good.

"I'll see you some time in the future, huh?" Matt suggested as he pulled Peter in to a friendly hug.

"The future," Peter smiled ironically, "I'll make sure of it," he muffled in to his shoulder, patting the taller man on the back, "Thanks for everything. I couldn't have done any of this without you, man. You're a good friend."

"I believed in you, Peter. I'm glad I did," he pulled away and smiled.

Peter returned the grin and nodded, turning his attention to Mohinder who had his hand held out. Peter took it and shook his hand, keeping a firm grasp, "And thank you, Mohinder. You really saved my ass back there a few times."

"And you saved mine!" laughed Mohinder before dropping his hand to his side and becoming more serious, "I'm glad I came."

"We make a great team, I guess," smiled Peter with a small shrug.

"That we do," chuckled Matt, grinning at his two friends before giving in to a concerned sigh, "I better go check on Daphne at the hospital."

"Give her our best wishes," Peter told him as Matt began to withdraw, "I hope she'll be okay, Matt."

"Me too. I'll be seeing you guys," he waved briefly before turning and making his way to the hospital as fast as he could.

Peter turned his attention to Mohinder who was staring up at Building 26 and breathing a heavy sigh, "So what're you going to do now, Mohinder?"

Mohinder showed a half-grin, "I might go back to India - have a break from America for a while!" he chuckled, "Or I might get in to the cab-driving business. I hear the pay is pretty good."

Peter laughed and patted him on the back, "Good luck. Stay in contact, yeah?"

"Now I don't have to worry about my phone being tapped? Of course." He smiled, "Bye, Peter."

"Take care, Mohinder," Peter smiled in return, watching him leave before his gaze fell back upon the large grey building in front of him.

So it was finally over. This place would finally be shut down. He felt angry with himself for losing Sylar but there would be plenty of opportunities to catch up with him later. Wherever he was, he was obviously still tied up with resolving his daddy issues above anything else. Sighing, he thought about his future-self and how he hoped he'd never have to see that version of himself again. The scar pierced his face once again. He couldn't explain why it kept manifesting - it wasn't real after all. Perhaps there was still some conflict within himself that he still had to resolve. Not a physical battle, but an emotional one. And the scar served as a reminder for that. He scratched at it, felt it disappearing once again as the rough and damaged skin returned to its usual smoothness.

Nathan walked out of the building, a bloodied cloth pressed to his wound. In his hand he still had the phone which he fully intended to call the president with as soon as he had a spare moment. Exhaling, he dropped on to a low brick wall and peeled back the cloth to inspect his wound.

"You should keep that on there," Peter told him, approaching him, "Stop the blood flow. You look pale."

"I'm fine," Nathan responded, mouth dry.

Peter watched him solemnly, "It's finally over," he said to him, still in disbelief.

Nathan winced a bit, pressing the cloth to his wound, "Good."

"Did you talk to Bennet?"

He nodded, "He's sorting everything out over there. And Claire's fine. He told me she and Hiro Nakamura were warning people about all this. Tried to protect them from being taken."

That seemed to be a weight off his mind. The idea of Claire on a mission of her own made him smile, and the fact that Hiro, and presumably Ando, were there to help and protect her put his mind at ease. One thing seemed to emerge as odd though, "How did they know who to warn?" he asked aloud.

"No idea," Nathan threw his hands up, clueless, "But you know, I'm kind of glad they did."

His younger brother sighed, averting his gaze for a second before sitting down beside Nathan, "I think I understand why you did this. What you said before….I get it. But…" he trailed off there, scratching at his stubble.

"I know," Nathan interrupted him, "I know you're going to find it hard to trust me again. I know I set myself up for this. I'm just going to have to deal with it."

A beat of silence. He sucked in a breath, "Mohinder told me about the deal you made." Nathan looked at him, "Thank you. As stupid as it was, I know you were looking out for me."

"You're my brother," shrugged Nathan, "I know I've put you through Hell but I wouldn't let Danko hurt you. Or let Sylar for that matter."

Peter realised a small smile had emerged on his face, "So," he began, fidgeting slightly, "What are you going to tell the president?"

"I'll talk my way out of it…somehow," Nathan assured him, "I'll fix this mess."

He nodded, smiling, "Good."

Nathan smiled back at him, a sense of relief running through him. He really wasn't sure where he was going to begin in explaining all the events that had happened here. But he was pleased he could rely on one thing, "I guess it's a good job I'm not bad at confrontations," he said with a grin.

**The End.**

**Yay for cheesy endings? Well, that was it. I'm sure plenty of people lost interest along the way, lol, but thank you so much to those people who stuck around and reviewed etc. I'm so grateful, and I hope you enjoyed this! **


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